


The Return of Jemma Simmons

by fields_of_clover



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-05-02 07:40:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 35,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5240141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fields_of_clover/pseuds/fields_of_clover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story starts immediately after Fitz and Jemma are hurled back through the monolith portal in Season 3.</p><p>I hijack the story from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I need more from the Fitz/Simmons' relationship, so I am writing it myself...

This story starts immediately after Fitz and Jemma are hurled back through the monolith portal.

"Fitz," Jemma mumbled and rolled back into his shoulder.

 

The forty-eight hours following the explosive plummet back through the monolith portal were a blur of squeaky haz-mat suits and forensic science, blindingly bright lights and cold laboratory instruments. Jemma was poked and prodded, her jagged nails trimmed, her sand-scuffed skin scraped. She was swabbed, inspected, auscultated, percussed, and palpated. Blood, hair, sweat, and saliva were all harvested using precise scientific method, so that specimens could be evaluated, interpreted. She submitted in silence to the technicians who worked tirelessly to gather all of the data her body carried like a vessel.

The forensic technicians collecting the various samples from her broken body were exceedingly professional, telling her exactly what they were going to do prior to starting, explaining each step as they went, and quietly apologizing to her when they inflicted pain to her battered body. Jemma never flinched or cried out in pain, never pulled away or screamed in anguish. She never spoke, never even looked at them. She yielded noiselessly, turning herself over to the process, knowing her consent for everything to come had been given the moment she joined SHIELD.

She heard the hushed gasps of surprise uttered from the mouths of her former colleagues, who for the first time were inspecting her stark nudity. Her hair was dusty and matted, secured with a strip of fabric at the nape of her neck. Her cheeks were chapped and dry, her lips split and bleeding. Every place skin stretched over bone was bruised and pulsating with pain. Skin had been torn from her knees, which left sticky blood oozing. Her knuckles were open, weeping. Her finger tips were raw, sensitive from clawing her away across the sand. Injuries dominated her entire left side. A purple bruise extended from her fifth rib to her hip bone. Her left thigh displayed a baseball-sized wine-colored hematoma that radiated warmth. She did not cry. She did not seek the temporary respite of unconsciousness. She endured hours of imaging and scans and needles, always obeying the technicians' requests, passive, but cooperative.

Jemma was reminded of another time her co-workers were stunned by her physical appearance. She recalled the memory from years before, pulling forth its details, escaping the blistering pain in mind only.

 

Agent Jemma Simmons seemed to have an infallible professional fashion formula. She wore long-sleeved button-up shirts closed at the collar. Lint-free sweaters (or sweater vests, if it was warm) layered over the top. Smooth, above-the-knee skirts, paired with opaque tights and polished, sensible flats completed her look. Several patterns and colors were incorporated into her wardrobe, but Jemma's recipe was always the same. She was described at the academy as wholesome and beautiful and intelligent, fresh-faced and eager.

Their mission was to gather information about an upcoming meeting between different, powerful, Centipede financial backers. SHIELD had information indicating that a smaller gathering of proxies would be taking place beforehand, to discuss the coordination of security details. SHIELD had identified one of the proxy attendees. The team was shadowing the target from their mobile unit, using live traffic and surrounding security feeds, readying themselves to act as soon as the time and location of the proxy meeting was revealed.

Agent Ward was to wear a pair of "smart" glasses, similar to those he wore during the Akela Amador mission. This pair outfitted, by Agent Fitz, with facial recognition software, and auto-sync, the ability to hear real time verbal conversations taking place outside normal hearing range, by interfacing SHIELD lip reading technology with the eyewear's live video feed input. Agent May was to plant mini-trackers on as many attendees as possible. Agents Fitz and Simmons (Fitzsimmons) had created self-imbedding, undetectable, subcutaneous beacons. They were sesame seed sized mini-chips (Fitz) that were suspended in a hypoallergenic anesthetic gel (Simmons), which meant they were pain-free and would not cause any allergic responses, itching or hives, in those tagged. May would place them by simply touching a area of exposed skin, like applying a sticker, using a nitrile-based finger pad that would be adhered to May's right index finger. After sliding each mini-tracker from its dispenser (Fitz) hidden behind her right ear, she merely needed to touch her fingertip to a target, and the mini-tracker would painlessly self-imbed into the unsuspecting target's subcutaneous skin layer. The tracker would self-activate after coming into contact with the target's capillary blood (Simmons), and begin transmitting its location to the bus' mainframe (Fitz). Thirteen days later, the trackers would naturally break down to nothingness within the target's body (Fitzsimmons). Skye was to monitor Agent Ward and provide tech support as needed. Agents Fitzsimmons would monitor the mini-trackers, and Agent Coulson would direct it all from the Winnebago that they were all squeezed into for the moment.

Eventually, the target pulled out his phone, dialed a number, and said "Ten minutes. Tell the others." He then ducked into the one place stealthy Ward and May would be unable to blend in undetected, Inkredible Times. Inkredible Times was a rough, punk, segregated, ink bar, that only admitted fellow punk-inkers. Of course there were agents out there who fit the physical description needed for entry into this particular establishment, but ten minutes would not be enough time to secure one.

The team reacted to the new information, Ward and May and Skye talking about disabling security and using the ventilation system to get close enough to gather the data they needed, Fitzsimmons talking about using small, flying insect droids, miniaturized versions of the dwarfs, to place the trackers. Coulson calmly, but quickly, weighed his options. Then he turned to the team, looked at Jemma, and calmly stated, "Agent Simmons, you're up."

Among the muttered "Simmons?" leaking from her team mates, Agent Simmons spun around on her heal to face him, ears tipped in red. He simply stated, "identifiable markings."

She set her jaw and nodded once.

Coulson took a breath, addressing only Jemma and said, "What do you need? You now have... nine minutes," glancing at his watch.

"I need Fitz to start placing the mini-trackers and the finger pad... to me... NOW." Couslon nodded, and Fitz began working as he was told.

"I need Ward's glasses, Skye's boots, May's lipstick taser." Everyone burst into action, tossing down the requested items.

Fitz finished, and Jemma demanded his graphite lubricant and his neck tie, asked Coulson for the rubber band wrapped around the file folder he was holding in his hand, then grabbed everything up in her arms and ran into the Winnebago's cramped bathroom.

Jemma emerged less than four minutes later, exited the confines of the Winnebago, and headed on foot towards Inkredible Times, noting the stunned faces of her team members as she passed.

Coulson barked that he needed a visual, which Skye tossed up on the center screen in seconds.

"There she is. We got her. Skye, let her know we have her." 

Skye typed the message into her laptop. Simmons should see her message in the lens like closed captioning. Within a second, Jemma extended her neck, raising her nose in the air and nodded her head once, as if casually acknowledging a passing friend, letting them know her message was received.

The mission was successful. Jemma did everything she was instructed to do and left the bar. She walked a block to an old blue S-10 that was described as her extraction vehicle, and casually climbed into the unlocked door on the passenger side. Coulson sat behind the wheel.

"I've got her. See you all at the bus." He said into comms.

"Great job, Jemma." He addressed her informally.

"Thank you, sir."

 

Back at the bus, Jemma ran up the spiral staircase and up to the holo-table for mission wrap-up. Skye started asking question after question, not waiting for any responses. Ward stared her down like a father-figure. Fitz mumbled to himself, avoiding eye-contact with her. May was silent.

Coulson quietly told Jemma that it was up to her whether or not she chose to share things from her personal life, but addressed the rest, when he added, "After wrap-up."

When they reviewed mission's footage, images of Jemma walking to the bar and addressing the door man flooded their screens. Jemma had stripped off her tights and sensible shoes and replaced them with Skye's black knee boots. Her skirt remained, but without the tights, it looked indecently short on her thighs. She had used the graphite lubricant to quickly shadow her eyes, applied the red lipstick that housed the hidden taser to her lips, pulled her hair up into a messy bun using the rubber band, and wrapped Fitz' tie around her head like a head band, tying it behind her right ear, tails strategically pulled forward over her shoulder, ending near her breasts. She had removed her sweater and button up shirt, leaving only her black lace push-up balconette bra, which exposed the upper third of each breast, and also revealed a beautiful skin mosaic, on her, swirling pieces of art.

Agent Jemma Simmons was a walking collage of depth and color. She had a tasteful snowflake tattooed on her upper-middle back, an anchor, a jeweled crown, and a compass were positioned off to its left, where a huge paisley dominated her left upper arm and shoulder, extending from her upper deltoid to the bend of her elbow. Blue birds were flying above the curve of each breast, and the Deathly Hallows were tucked away on her left inner arm. A beautiful fern frond curved across her back from her right shoulder to her left hip. Delicate rose petals and paper-thin butterflies dominated her right shoulder. Hearts and more butterflies and stars were tucked here and there, creating depth and beauty. She saw herself on the screen, remembering each piece that went into the whole. A small smile played at her lips. Her life story was on display, and noone knew how to read its text but her.

On the screen, as she approached the door man, she tugged down her skirt from its hem to sit lower on her hips, then looped her index fingers into the waistband at the back of her skirt and gently pulled up on the black lacy straps of her thong, clearly exposing them above her waistband, visible to anyone bothering to look. May smirked. Fitz gaped, "bloody hell." Ward's mouth dropped open, and Skye smiled and hit her arm, an exasperated "Jemma!" escaping her lips. 

"Jemma was playing a part, and she did very well." Coulson stated. 

Skye then turned to Coulson.

"How did you know what Jemma was hiding?"

"SHIELD agents are required to continually update their 'identifiable markings,' so we can identify them, if needed. Jemma submitted photos every time new piece of art was added."

Jemma mumbled that she was unaware anyone actually looked at those submissions, unless an agent was missing or presumed deceased.

Coulson had offered Jemma a warm smile, as Skye proclaimed that Jemma was "Hot. Super hot. Super-Sexy-Hot." 

 

That day seemed so far away now, almost a dream. 

So much had happened, not only to her, but to the team, to SHIELD.

Hydra had emerged. Ward betrayed them. Fitz drowned. Director Fury died, sort of. And Jemma, she traveled to another planet and back to Earth again.

(more to come)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens next...

Jemma was placed in a bio-hazard isolation pod, where everything was stark white and sterile in appearance. Within those 6 x 8 walls, there was a small built-in bed, cupboards containing white scrub tops, white scrub bottoms, white cotton boy short panties, white fitted tanks, white socks, white sports bras, all stocked in her size. Razors, linens, towels, hairbrush, comb, toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo, conditioner, soap, deodorant, tampons, pads, all non-descript in appearance, were also supplied. She didn't need to investigate, having created the pod's template. One entire wall was an observation window, containing a mechanical pass through apparatus/drawer. A compact en suite toilet and shower completed the space lending an additional 6 x 2 room to her temporary overall living space.

Twenty-one days of strict isolation began.

She carefully showered herself and shaved her legs and underarms, groomed the hair in her private area, shampooed and conditioned her hair. She brushed her teeth and flossed her bleeding gums. She carefully pulled on a tank and panties, not wanting clothing to rub her already raw flesh. She dimmed the lights, attached the leads from the cardiac monitor to the stickers on her chest, placed the automated blood pressure cuff around her right arm, and clipped the pulse oximetry sensor to her finger. She climbed into the bed avoiding the IV tubing attached to the catheter in her neck, the fluid within the line running coolly along her torso inside her shirt. She completed the tasks without being given instruction. She knew the protocols. Hell, she wrote the protocols.

She woke hours later to a repeating, jarringly high-pitched, beeping noise. She carefully, slowly, painfully arose to find that her IV bag was empty, so she paused the pump to silence the ear-splitting noise. Because IV fluids were not stored inside the pods, she stepped toward the dim light spilling through her window wall. She saw a technician putting on personal protective equipment (gown, gloves, shoe covers, mask, faces hield, surgical bonnet), so he could enter her pod. She reached out, tapped the glass once. The technician looked up from his task. He padded over offering a concerned smile, but Jemma did not look at his face, did not see his smile. She just pointed to the pass through drawer. He understood, grabbed the bag of saline, and placed it into the pass through to her. After she changed the bag, reprogrammed the pump, and used the facilities, she climbed back into the bed, and slept until the pump again shrieked its low volume alarm.

She turned off the pump. She removed the BP cuff from her arm, detached the cardiac leads, and took off the pulse-oximetry sensor. She detached the IV tubing from her neck, leaving the catheter in place. She removed the tubing and bag from the pump, discarded them in the trash, and pushed the pump aside for later. After using the facilities, Jemma brushed her teeth again. She slowly hobbled back into the bed, and again, she slept.

When she was awake, she sat in the bed for hours, knees pulled to her chest, massaged the hematoma in her thigh, ran her fingers over her battered body.

By the end of the first week, all of the equipment was discontinued, her body healing. Jemma's bruises turned yellow and green, the hematoma still firm, but purplish-brown. Her gums no longer bled when she flossed, and her lips were tender, but better. Her knees were covered in deep, maroon, multi-layered scabbing, but her knuckles had shed their scabs, leaving behind smooth, new, hot pink skin.

Dr. Garner, the psychologist, repeatedly visited her from the other side of the glass. He pulled a chair to the window, patiently spoke. He encouraged, tried to get her to talk. At times, he baited her, but Jemma wouldn't engage. Each time he arrived, she placed a folded towel on the floor in front of the glass wall, and sat upon it, faced his direction. She did not speak or make eye contact, but she calmly sat there for the duration of his visits, eyes downcast.

Eventually, she was given a mini lap top, fed into her pod via the pass through. 

The compact computer was programmed to gather her statements, meticulously, like Coulson questioned her himself. Each section she completed, led to another portion of the overall debrief. She typed for hours, poured out six months of memorized factual data. She typed about the planet, its moons, the terrain, weather patterns, the astronaut, Will Daniels, she met on the other side of the portal. She gave a detailed description of Will, his antiquated equipment, his NASA mission details. When she finished, she electronically signed her report, submitted it to SHIELD.

Over the next couple of days, Jemma responded to Coulson's follow-up questions, that appeared on the computer's screen. Will Daniels was definitely a person of Coulson's interest.

 

 

"I really can't say Phil. Jemma's been through a lot. Physically, she's recovering, but she won't speak. She hasn't connected with anyone since returning."

"Jemma's strong. She survived."

"Sometimes surviving isn't enough. A recovering body does not always heal the mind." Andrew paused for a moment, "I want to keep trying, Phil. Fitz may be the key."

Coulson agreed, "They have been through a lot together."

"I watched the video." He grimly looked at Coulson. "Six agents physically tore her out of his arms for processing. I could barely listen to her screams, witness that panic."

"It's protocol. There was a potential biological threat."

"It's cruel. Once she stopped screaming, she shut down and closed herself off. I hate to think she survived living on another planet, only to be broken by SHIELD upon her return."


	3. Chapter 3

Daisy visited Jemma everyday, once she was allowed. She talked and talked and talked in her easy, throaty tone. She talked about Lincoln, her mother, her father, her time away. She talked about Bobby and Hunter and Mack and May. She talked about the weather. She talked about her powers. She talked, and she talked.

Everyday, when Daisy visited, Jemma stood up at the window wall, but never lifted her eyes.

Daisy hurt for her friend, angrily, helplessly cried for her at night when she left.

After her third visit, on day eleven of Jemma's isolation, Daisy stormed into Coulson's office. She yelled, "I can't keep doing this your way. I talk to her, everyday, about everything and everyone, but Fitz. She stands there, looking off at the floor, like she doesn't hear me. She doesn't need to hear about me or the rest of the base; she doesn't need a rundown of the past six months. She needs him." Daisy's eyes were red-rimmed, angry at the situation, Coulson and Dr. Garner.

"We can't risk her current level of stability," Dr. Garner responded. "With their current separation, it would be best to not stimulate Jemma with information about Fitz. Jemma knows SHIELD's bio-hazard isolation procedure, knows that Fitz is also subject to quarantine. Allow her comfort in the process. She trusts science."

"She may not be able to handle it," Coulson added.

She spit venom, "What won't she be able to handle? Knowing that he is okay, that he asks about her all the time?" Daisy took a deep breath, " It may help her to know that he is desperate to get to her."

Dr. Garner spoke softly, slightly exasperated. "She knows Daisy. He went and got her. He brought her back."

He continued, "They have just been ripped apart again. It doesn't matter whether the entire universe is between them or just a few hundred feet. She wasn't really prepared for either separation. It's a shock."

"Andrew is right. Leave it, Daisy. Continue visiting if you like, but for now, leave Fitz out of it," Coulson softly demanded.

Daisy threw her hands up in frustration, clenched her fists, and sighed. Then she nodded, turned on her heal, and left Couslon's office in resignation.

Andrew paused for a moment, then spoke again to Coulson, "I reviewed her most recent report and compared her words and phrases to previous reports she has submitted. It is different, but only slightly. Her descriptions are lacking the passion and flare she used to assign by using her flowery adjectives, but her institutional language remains the same. Her mind is clinically organizing thoughts in the same manner as before. It's Jemma, just stripped down, bare-bones Jemma. She may just need time. "

Coulson sighed. "That is a relief."

 

By the end of the second week, Jemma's physical injuries faded. Her bruised ribs felt better, no longer yellow. She stretched, lifted her arms above her head. She twisted her body from left to right, testing her joints and muscles, her flexibility. The skin on her knees flaked. When she massaged her left thigh, it felt like corn kernels were trapped under her skin, calcified blood all that remained of the hematoma. Her period started, nature kick-started by proper nourishment.

Daisy continued to visit, but there was no change in Jemma's behaviors. Her body healed. Her mind remained disconnected.

On day seventeen of Jemma's isolation, Daisy ran into the pod bay, hurriedly stuffed something into the pass through, and hit send. Dr. Garner hurriedly followed on her heals, scowl on his face.

The pass through apparatus was something Jemma and Fitz had created together. The external drawer was part of the existing outside pod wall, protruding into the pod bay, and looked much like a small wall-mounted sink. It had a smaller, movable drawer that nested inside. The external drawer had a self-sealing flip top, so its user merely dropped in an item, shut the lid, and pressed the send button. The unit sealed down from outside the pod, then the interior pass through panel retracted into the wall and moved down into a designated holding position. The inner drawer smoothly extended into the pod powered by automatic hydraulic slides, and the item was available for removal inside the pod. Because items introduced into quarantine cannot be removed again, the pass through had a governor that prevented the return of the drawer into the outside mechanism, until the drawer reached zero mass, empty weight. Once obtained, the drawer auto-returned, the internal wall panel returned to its original sealed position, and the pass through ran a chemical-steam and microwave sanitation cycle, after which, the external self-sealing top's locking mechanism released. The pass through fully sterilized, ready for its next use.

Food, medicine, and wound care supplies were fed into the pass through with comfortable regularity.

Jemma sat on the bed, knees to her chest, arms wrapped around her shins, chin resting on her knees. 

She unfolded her body and took the single step to the pass through, reached in and pulled out the balled mass. She manipulated the lumpiness in her hands, revealing it to be a dark blue cardigan sweater with brown elbow patches and functional front pockets, too large to be Jemma's. She paused, then smelled it, held it to her face, tears welling in her eyes. Her tears ran down her face unchecked, dripped from her chin and jaw.

Dr. Garner held his breath.

Daisy reached out to her friend through the window wall, pressed her right hand flat to the glass. Her left hand covered her mouth, holding her breath, tears filling her own eyes.

Jemma pulled the sweater around her shoulders, hugged it to herself, then slowly, shakily raised her left hand to the glass mirroring Daisy's. 

Daisy started sobbing. She stood at the glass, tears falling, nose running. They stood mirroring one another for several minutes, both weeping, Jemma silently, Daisy less so.

Dr. Garner did not move, afraid to interrupt whatever was unfolding before him.

When Jemma and Daisy both seemed to recover a bit, Daisy spoke, her voice even more hoarse than usual, the product of her crying and the raw emotions she was feeling. "Jemma," came out on a whisper. "Jemma, we are all so worried about you. Fitz is worried. He is going crazy in quarantine. He needs you, too. It's okay Jemma. It'll take time, but it will be okay. Stay strong, Jemma. You are almost done. Please, Jemma. Stay strong. I know he will help you feel better... You should have seen him, Jemma. He never gave up. He looked for you non-stop. Looking for you made him better in some ways, but it broke him, too. You have to stay strong for a few more days. Jemma, it's almost over." Daisy took a deep breath. She had just unloaded everything she was thinking, feeling. The words tumbled out, things she needed to say, things she thought Jemma needed to hear. She wasn't sure it was the right thing, but she needed Jemma to know how broken Fitz was too. 

Eventually, Jemma raised her eyes to look at Daisy. Daisy gasped at the naked anguish, the need she saw in her friend's eyes. Daisy's tears started anew. She shared Jemma's pain, willing to take as much of that burden as Jemma would allow.

 

On day nineteen of Jemma's pod-living, Daisy brought two of every fashion and fluff magazine she could find at the closest gas station. She stuffed half into the pass through and sat down on the floor with the duplicates, leaned easily back against the glass wall. 

She no longer felt the need to draw any response from Jemma. Jemma had bared her soul to Daisy in that one look, and Daisy knew that she was unable to do anything more than help Jemma to pass the remaining time until her release. 

Daisy looked through the magazine on top of her stack, read the articles out loud, criticized the photograohy, laughed at the "in bed" section. Daisy smelled all the perfume samples, scored each scent on a one to five star rating scale. She snorted at the fashion failure page.

Daisy read the second magazine with as much energy and enthusiasm as the first.

When Daisy held up the third magazine and read its title out loud, Jemma moved to the pass through and pulled out its twin. She sat down on the floor, and leaned her back against the glass, mirroring Daisy. She silently followed along, flipped pages, even smelled a perfume sample.

They continued for hours, until eventually, Daisy finished the last magazine and set it aside.

Instead of leaving, she laid down where she was and slept. Jemma did the same, she and Daisy, back to back, only separated by the glass.


	4. Chapter 4

Jemma had no concept of date or time, had not seen the sun from Earth for over six months. She ate when she was hungry, slept when she was tired, Daisy's irregular hours also contributing to the abnormality in Jemma's daily activities.

 

On day twenty-two, at 4:43 pm in the afternoon, Coulson and Daisy met at Fitz' isolation pod. They released a nervous, anxious, stuttering Fitz from his temporary prison, then watched in silence as he ran towards the wing housing Jemma's pod, so that he may release her also. They followed, but gave him a good head start, and maintained a more leisurely pace. 

Fitz was informed about Jemma's condition, her silence, her disengagement.

He ran to her anyway. The priority was to get there. Forming a good plan of action had to wait until he saw her condition for himself.

He came to a stop outside the window wall, looked into the darkened pod to see her.

Jemma was asleep, nestled in the bed, tangled hair, bared legs. She looked so different than when they last separated, so peaceful in her sleep, healed and cleaned. She was positioned on her left side, her left arm folded under her head, her right arm tucked under her chin.

He stood there, frozen in place, and that was how Coulson and Daisy found him minutes later.

"Go on, Fitz. If anybody is going to help her now, it's you."

"Daisy's right. You can do this."

 

Fitz opened the airlock door, stepped over to her, crouched by the bed. He reached out, brushed her hair back from her face, looped it behind her right ear. She sighed in her sleep. Her lashes fluttered as she awoke. She opened her eyes.

His mouth and chin came into focus first. She seemed to gaze at the lower half of his face forever, breathing several breaths before she raised her eyes to his. Time stood still, then a whispered, "Fitz," slipped out, and her arms snaked up, wrapped around his neck, and pulled him to her. He lost his balance, fell forward, laughed/coughed. He caught himself, left hand on the mattress behind her, then flattened that hand to the small of her back and pulled her in closer, tighter to his chest.

After a few minutes, he helped her transition into a sitting position without dislodging her from his body. She sat on the bed, leaned forward, arms still wrapped around his neck, him on his knees in front of her, arms wrapped around her back.

Eventually, he pulled back slightly, testing her readiness. She did not release him. She tumbled forward with his backward movement so that he ended up sitting on his heels, and she ended up on her knees on the floor in front of him. He turned his upper body slightly, pulling her with him a bit, looked over his left shoulder, and told Coulson and Daisy that he and Jemma were going to stay in the pod.

They nodded in agreement and backed up to leave.

Coulson softly said that he would make sure that the area was off limits to staff, and Daisy said she would check in later.

"Thanks," muttered Fitz.

 

Eventually, he had to pull her off of his neck or suffer permanent injury.

He spoke very softly to her, told her that if she would let him slip off his shoes and lay down, they could deal with the rest later.

She nodded into his neck and very slowly released him, her open palms rubbing his shoulders, neck, and face as they retreated back to her sides. He held her hands for a moment, Jemma still leaning into him.

She remained on the floor, didn't look up to watch him, as he stood and slipped off his shoes and belt and socks. 

He asked her if she'd be okay if he used the bathroom. Again, she nodded, but didn't look up at him.

When he got back minutes later, Jemma had sunk into a sitting position where he had left her on the floor.

He grabbed a blanket from the cupboard, took her by the hands, and gently pulled her to her feet.

Again she leaned into him. 

He climbed into the bed, his back to the wall, laying on his left side. He held out his arm to her like she was was a child, encouraging her.

She slipped off his cardigan, and in her tank top and panties, she climbed into the bed, facing him, laying on her right side. He covered them both with the blanket. She ran her fingers over his face, his eyelids, his scruffy jaw, his soft lips. He did the same to her, caressing her long eyelashes, curving lips, silent tears.

Her eyelids were heavy. She was so tired, so relieved.

She leaned forward, kissed his right cheek at the corner of his mouth. Then she rolled over, ending up right in his lap. They ended up pressed together tightly, her back to his front, his left arm curled under his head, his right arm tight around her waist.

She whispered, "Don't let go, okay?"

He planted a chaste kiss on the nape of her neck. "Never."


	5. Chapter 5

Fitz held her for hours, before he fell asleep beside her.

She woke up slowly, felt his hand on her hip, the warm weight of it. She stretched slightly, opened her eyes and blinked away the fog of sleep, and slid her arm over his, covering his right hand with hers and slowly threading her fingers through his. She pulled his hand across her belly with her own, tucking both his hand and hers under her rib cage on her left side, pulling his warmth in tighter around her. He leaned forward in his sleep, rested his chin on her shoulder, and she closed her eyes, relaxed, and waited for him to wake up on his own.

When he woke up later, he could feel Jemma's shoulder under his chin. He could feel her arm resting lightly on his, her fingers tangled in his, wrapped around her, tucked under her side. He hugged her tighter for a moment, scratching his jaw along her upper back when he pulled back to place a quick kiss where his chin had previously rested.

Jemma turned her head, pulling up on his hand. He lifted his arm a bit, and she untangled their fingers and rolled over to face him.

"Hey," he slurred with sleep, rubbing his eye with his fist.

She leaned in and kissed the tip of his nose.

Jemma then rolled away, leaned over the edge of the bed, and picked his cardigan up from the floor. She stuffed her arms through the too big sleeves, before she stood and turned to look at him, a little pleading, a lot scared.

He looked at her with understanding, "I'll be right here, won't move an inch."

She stepped into the small pod bathroom, and slid the door shut. She relieved herself, took a shower, brushed her teeth, and pulled her hair into a messy bun on top of her head. She dressed in clean panties and a tank top, and pulled his cardigan over top, before sliding open the door.

"Better?" He sat up at the edge of the bed.

She nodded and sat down beside him. She held his hand, then she noticed his watch, read the dial. It was after eleven in the evening.

She looked at him, then to their clasped hands on her knee.

"Jem?" He tilted his head.

She still hadn't found her voice. She hoarsely whispered, "I don't know what day it is."

"Wednesday."

She sat there for a few seconds, swallowing. When she lifted her head again and looked at him, she looked helpless and overwhelmed, lost and embarrassed. 

She barely moved, but shook her head no. Her eyes filled with tears. When she next blinked, she sent them streaming down her face.

"The seventh of October," he gently said, then brought his hands up to cradle her face. 

He shut his eyes and rested his forehead against hers.


	6. Chapter 6

He looked like a boy as he sat on the edge of the bed next to her. He clumsily laced his belt through the loops around his waist, but didn't fasten it, then stuffed his socks into his pockets. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, slipped his shoes onto his bare feet, and lifted his arms above his head to stretch in the small space. He gently took her hand, and stood up, pulling her into a standing position next to him. He simply told her that it was time to go, and led her out of the pod and into the pod bay.

They walked through the halls of the base, cool concrete under her bare feet. She ran the fingers of her right hand over the rough brick walls. The fingers of her left hand were threaded with his. He told her that with it being so late at night, they could probably move around much of the base without running into anyone, then he was silent. He had started by leading her, but after a while, he encouraged her to choose their path.

She led him to the kitchen, so he assumed she was hungry, and while he rummaged through the cupboards and pantry and fridge, she sat on the island counter.

"Pancakes, Jem?"

She nodded, and hopped down to help. They fell into a natural rhythm, much like they used to do. They reached across each other, working together and moving around one another like they did before. He walked in front of her and poured the batter, because he always did that part. He wordlessly handed her the turner, and she flipped the pancakes, because she always did that part. They didn't need to talk about it, because they already knew. It was comforting.

He turned on the tea kettle, while she grabbed cups from the shelf.

She handed him the peanut butter, because that is what he liked, and grabbed the maple syrup for herself, because that is what she liked.

She sat back on the counter once everything was ready, his cardigan just covering everything that needed to remain covered, legs crossed.

He sat on a stool pushed up to the counter next to where she was sitting. While they ate, he was animated and talking with his hands, telling her about a navigational anomaly he discovered in the dwarf software, and it really was like before...

... before he drowned.

... before she got tossed across the universe.

They cleaned up the kitchen, wordlessly and efficiently, never speaking.

Fitz grabbed her hand up in his as they left the kitchen, motioning with his other hand that she should lead the way. She wandered all over the base, and he followed. He could tell she was mentally cataloging things, things that were the same as before she left, and things that were now different. 

Eventually, he checked his watch and stopped her wandering.

"C'mon. There is something I want you to see."

He took her hand and led her down the South hall, eventually coming to the Southeast stairs, and led her up a few flights. Then, he walked her down another hall and into a small, dark, empty office, with a large East facing window. 

There weren't many windows on base, so this room was unique. She let go of his hand and walked to the window, then wiped her hand across a dusty pane to see better. She saw how far she could see out into the darkness. 

She watched the sky slowly turn to gray, saw buildings and trees take their shapes in the growing light. She watched the street lights turn off one by one. 

The sun rose, and she watched, as the darkness faded and was replaced by light.

She watched the world, while he watched her.


	7. Chapter 7

Jemma started talking again, her voice slowly evolving from a hoarse whisper back to her regular tone. She rarely spoke, but responded appropriately when verbally engaged. Her wholesome demeanor and innocent smile no longer surfaced and presented, no longer existed. She didn't cover her tattoos or wear her sensible shoes. She wore whatever she wanted, whatever she found comfortable, and when she smiled, it was a gift. She no longer displayed those polite smiles on her face that put others at ease, she only offered genuine expressions, when she truly felt them.

She started working again, and she was as brilliant. She learned amazing things about inhumans, as more allowed her to genetically profile them, and she told Fitz about Will, so when they had free moments, they worked on opening the portal to bring him home.

She started to sleep in her own quarters again, but sometimes in the middle of the night, she wandered to his door, and asked to sleep with him like a scared child. He always let her. He tucked her in beside him, like she was no trouble at all.

____________________

 

"How is she doing?"

"She's different, but not in a bad way. Do you remember when we went on that mission, and innocent Jemma ripped off her shirt and saved the day, and we saw all of her awesome tattoos? And she was so amazing, and sexy, and not at all wholesome?"

Coulson dead-panned Daisy.

"Whatever, I know. We all remember. It was hot. Anyway, she is acting like that. She is just so real and no-nonsense now, like what-you-see-is-what-you-get. She is just owning it."

"How is she doing," Coulson enunciated, "in the lab?"

"Oh right, in the lab... Good. She is profiling the inhumans, trying to find a common allele, I think that's what she called it, in our DNA, and I think she and Fitz are trying to figure out how to rescue the astronaut... You could make time to go down there and see them yourself, you know."

"I will. I need to talk to Fitz anyway."

"Your hand?"

"Surprisingly, no. This hand seems to be working well." He spread his fingers and made a fist as if to illustrate.

She smiled, "That's because Jemma's back. They are better together."

___________________

 

She walked to his quarters on bare feet. She wore only an over-sized, heather gray, v-neck cotton tee and blush pink lace bikini briefs. The tee barely covered her bottom and hung at an odd angle, the collar falling from one shoulder, because of its expansive width. Her hair was down and fell in wild, curly disarray around her shoulders. Because she had pulled it up on her head in a bun that morning when it was still wet, the curly waves had set in as it dried all day. She had washed off her make-up and had gone to bed a couple of hours ago, but there she was, half-asleep and at his door.

He heard her knock, although very quiet, and rolled out of bed to open his door. He wore light blue scrubs pants, tied at the waist, and a white, round-neck cotton tee. When he opened the door, he looked her up and down and pulled her into the room.

"Wha-"

"Jem, you aren't wearing any pants."

She was so sleepy and ruffled, that she looked down at herself while she pulled up the hem of her shirt to validate his statement, "Oh... um nope, panties." Then she walked around him and clumsily wiped her feet on his area rug, before she climbed into his bed from his side and crawled to her side on her hands and knees. She didn't realize what it looked like to him as she moved: tired, crazy-haired woman, giving him a full view of her lace covered bottom. She pulled the covers over her, snuggled into her pillow.

He sighed, then shut his door and climbed back into bed. He pulled the covers up over him, too, and situated his head on his pillow.

After several minutes, she was sleeping soundly, but he was still awake beside her. He didn't want to bother her sleep, so he pulled his tablet off of his nightstand, dimmed the brightness, and started reading a paper on mercurial micro-fission. 

He was happily occupied reading the article, and when Jemma changed position in her sleep, he barely noticed. She slept there often enough, that he was used to her moving around in his bed. When she settled, he tilted the tablet in her direction, to use the light coming from the screen to check on her. 

She had rolled onto her back. Her hair was spread out on the pillow, and her arms were by her head, on either side, her elbows bent, her hands cupped and relaxed. She faced him slightly, eyes closed, mouth full. Her top was still covering everything vital, but the covers were pushed down to her waist, and her shirt pooled up around her rib cage, exposing a few inches of torso. He sighed when he looked at her, then looked back at the tablet. He wanted to finish the article, but he was tired. He decided he was unable to contribute the appropriate level of attention to finish, so he turned off the tablet and went to sleep. 

___________________

 

Jemma stretched in her sleep. She was facing away from him, and felt his hand resting on her left hip, large and warm. She rolled towards his warmth, and her body gently collided with his, belly to belly, while they slept. In his sleep, he grabbed her right thigh to pull her in tighter, hitching it up onto his hip.

She leaned in and pressed her forehead to his chin, his lips in her hair, her breath fanning his neck.

They slept like that for a while. 

Later, she leaned her head back in her sleep, and he slid his left hand up her thigh and hip, stopping when he reached her waist, then wrapped his arm around her there, his hand slack behind her back. As he stopped moving, she put her right arm on his left and slid her hand up to his left shoulder, resting her forearm on his upper arm. 

They moved around each other in their sleep as well as they ever moved together in the lab awake.

She woke up first, later, still pressed into him. She lightly ran her fingers through the hair at his temple and touched the outer edge of his ear. She rubbed her index finger over his cheek to his chin, feeling the change from smooth to scruffy. She swept her thumb over his bottom lip, and held her breath when she felt him bite his bottom lip, then slowly release it. 

She leaned in and feathered kisses on each of his eyelids and the tip of his nose.

Then she leaned in and brushed her mouth against his very gently. His lips were warm and relaxed with sleep, and incredibly soft.

She returned her head to the pillow and closed her eyes for a several minutes. Then, she blinked into the darkness for a few more moments before she leaned forward, closed her eyes, and kissed his lips again. This time his lips twitched a little at her touch. So, she did it again, and he puckered slightly. Once more she kissed him, then ran the slick tip of her tongue over his bottom lip.

His warm hand slid up her back before leaving her skin, then she felt his finger tips lightly touching her ear and cheek, his thumb grazing over the smooth edge of her mouth.

She leaned in again, his hand still on her face. 

She lightly rubbed her lips across his, and when she would have retreated, he guided her face back to his, this time his mouth moving over hers. He held her there and nipped at her mouth over and over, licking her upper lip gently, sucking her bottom lip into his mouth, and lightly running his teeth over it. She gasped into his mouth and continued moving her lips against his as they each took turns exploring the other's mouth.

She rested her forehead to his for a moment, catching her breath, running her thumb over his soft mouth, and when she moved to kiss him again, he met her half way.

He ran his tongue purposefully over her lips, teasing her mouth. She opened her mouth to him and he plunged his tongue inside, rubbing it confidently against the soft surfaces within.

She moved her hand into the curls at the back of his neck, pulling him in closer, still taking him in, but giving more back, nipping at his mouth and sucking his tongue, until eventually, she pulled away, breathless, pressing her forehead to his.

She waited until her breathing calmed, eyes closed.

"Jem?"

She opened her amber eyes, but didn't pull away. They couldn't see each other in his room's darkness, but she knew he was awake.

He potentially just realized that she was kissing him, that he was kissing her back, and that they were pressed together from head to toe, with her leg wrapped around his waist.

"Jem... are you awake?" He whispered roughly, his hand still on her neck, his fingers spread out slightly over her cheek and across her ear, his thumb at her chin.

She didn't say anything, but she nodded, their foreheads still touching.

Neither pulled away, and neither moved forward.

Eventually, she moved forward and pressed her mouth to his, but he didn't press back.

When he didn't respond, she pulled at his neck a little with her curled finger tips, pressing her mouth to his again and again, eventually biting his lip in desperation. When he gasped, she flicked the underside of his upper lip with the tip of her tongue.

She slid her hand down to his chest and tucked herself against him, her forehead resting where his neck met his shoulder, leaning into him. He removed his left hand from her neck to rest it gently on her right shoulder.

She breathed him in for a few minutes, then sighed.

After a few more seconds, she turned her left hand from where it rested against her own chest and set it palm down on his, next to her right hand. She slid both hands up his neck on either side, rolling her neck a little to allow her hand to move beside her face. She kept her hands moving, until the tips of her index fingers rested behind each of his ears, her other fingers spread on either side of his neck, the lateral side of her hand shaped to his jaw, and her thumbs were on his scruffy cheeks at either side of his mouth.

She pulled her head back in the darkness to rest her cheek into the pillow, right in front of his, their faces not touching, but their quiet breaths echoing in the silence.

His hand went to rest on her hip, but when it made contact with the lace there, he hurriedly lifted it away and tucked it into his own chest. 

She slowly removed her leg from around his waist.

And, she took a shaky breath and let out a little sigh.

She leaned forward, stretching out her neck, and pressed her lips to his forehead reverently, using her hands to gently tilt his chin down, her breath hitching a few times while she held him like that, but her swallowing it down.

Then she took an even bigger shaky breath and let it out.

She pulled her head back on the pillow, and slowly removed her hands trailing her finger tips along his skin, over his face, until she wasn't touching him at all.

Then she knocked him to his back, as she climbed over him suddenly to leave the bed. She landed quite gracefully on her bare feet in the dark, and quickly ran to the door, opening it, and stepping blindly into the hall, shutting it behind her.

She came face to face with Mack coming out of his quarters, directly across the hall. He froze, still in his doorway. 

She hopped in surprise, hand going to her forehead, but then she ran that hand quickly through her hair taking a deep breath, crossed her arms over her chest, and walked away.

She turned the corner and was out of sight, before Fitz even opened his door.

He looked to the left, down the hall, but she was gone.

His eyes slowly trailed back along the brick and connected briefly with Mack's across the hall, still standing frozen in his doorway. Then Fitz dropped his eyes to the floor, and sighed, stepping back into his room and shutting the door.


	8. Chapter 8

She heard a knock on her door, and she sighed, but she turned on her bedside lamp, got out of bed, and answered the door anyway.

He was there in his pajamas, eyelids heavy, ruffled with sleep, and completely adorable.

She stepped back and let him into her room, and he walked over to her bed, moved around some pillows and sat down, still semi-upright, leaning back onto the pillows, moving as comfortably in her space as she did in his. His right hand was behind his head, and his left rested across his belly, legs crossed at the ankles.

She followed him, and climbed over his legs to sit backwards in her bed, facing him, and pulled a pillow into her lap.

"Jemma... would you mind telling me what is going on?"

She covered her face with her hands and spoke into them, "I am so embarrassed."

She blew out a breath, then explained, her elbows rested on her pillow, the heels of her hands pressed into her forehead. "Okay... when I woke up, we were already tangled together like that... and it was nice, but you weren't awake, so I kissed you while you were asleep, because I wanted to know how it would feel..." 

Then she continued, "And it was very warm and pleasant... so after few minutes, I tried it a bit more... and then you kissed me back, which was quite lovely... but then you woke up, and I tried to kiss you after that, and well... everything... went to hell..." 

She continued, "And my feelings were hurt, and I felt... rejected... then really overwhelmed, and I thought I might cry, so I just came back to my room... and now I'm sorry, because it isn't what you wanted, and it isn't really something I can take back."

Silence.

"Fitz, say something."

He evenly asked, "I kissed you in my sleep?" 

"Yes," she sighed.

"And it was lovely," he smirked.

Her head shot up, " Are you making fun of me?"

"On the contrary, I'm sure it was quite lovely," he dead-panned.

"Stop saying lovely," she whispered.

"Pleasant?"

She picked up the pillow in her lap and threw it at him.

Since he was being playful, she asked seriously, "Why didn't you kiss me back?"

"Jemma, you came back so different," he said, looking at her intently.

She waited.

"You were so hurt, so broken, and you looked at me like I was the only one who could set it right again."

She looked at him seriously.

"You are. I am getting better," she pushed to her knees, put her arms around his neck.

He moved the hand that was behind his head, and rested it on her back.

"Jem, I have worked for quite a long time to not respond to you in a way that would be considered inappropriate of a friend," he said talking softer now that she was hugging him, "It is getting harder... Now, your skin is always exposed, and, wow, your tattoos, and you are touching me all the time, sometimes... you look at me, and... and when I woke up, I just didn't know what to do. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do, what you needed."

She sat back down, but closer. They faced each other, their right thighs touched on the bed, and he rested his right hand on top of her right hand resting on her leg.

She sighed, "What about what you need?"

"What I need... is for you to be happy."

"I am happy... I was afraid for years, that if we took it any further than friendship, if we tried for more, we may lose something... but I don't believe that anymore. I just want to be with you, and I don't want to wait."

"Years?"

She responded softly, "You would be surprised."

He rubbed his hand lazily back and forth over hers.

After a while, she moved, turned to sit next to him, leaned in on his right shoulder, his right arm around her, fingers of her right hand laced with his left, both resting on his belly.

They stayed like that for a while, thinking over one another's words.

He absently started rubbing his fingers along hers. 

Suddenly, softly she said, "It started with your hands."

"My hands?"

"When we worked together... I would watch you assembling and disassembling things... manipulating them, and I would... well..."

She flushed, "It is difficult to explain."

He laughed a little.

"No really... Um, do you remember when I dropped dihydrogen sulfate in the lab?"

"Yes... Sulfuric acid is highly corrosive and dangerous."

"All your fault."

"That was back at the academy, Jem."

"So?"

"That was a long time ago."

"I know..."

"For me, it was the shirtless Jemma mission-"

"You do not call it th-"

"Actually, I do. You were amazing and half naked, just beautiful and brave, and covered with tattoos. It was so surprising, and covertly sexy," he smiled. "Then you covered yourself up again, like you were hiding... Jemma, I would look at you, leaning over a microscope in the lab, and try to remember where they all were under your clothes... to remember what they looked like on your skin."

"I was very relieved, that you were too flustered to really examine them during the mission."

"Incredibly flustered... You were my best friend. I had never thought carnal thoughts about you before, but then I couldn't stop... I watched the mission footage more than once. "

He processed the rest of her statement, then very carefully asked, "Why didn't you want me examine them, Jemma?"

She then turned her face up to his, eyes full of want.

"Jem, I love when you look at me like that." 

"I can't help it... "

He let go of her hand, and rubbed her cheek with his left hand, " I am quite certain I have given up."

"What?"

"Trying to be a noble friend."

"You ar-"

He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, and she hummed, very quietly against his mouth, pressing her mouth against his. He rubbed his lips across hers again, then, tilted his head slightly, and when he ran his tongue over the seam of her mouth, she willingly opened it to let him slide his tongue along hers. 

Her right hand rubbed over his shirt, up his chest, to rest on his neck, and his left hand cradled her face as they poured themselves into one other, melding themselves together. 

There was no hesitancy as he nipped at her bottom lip, and when he slid his tongue into her mouth again, she sucked on it gently. 

When she let go, he dipped his tongue even further into her mouth, then he sucked on her bottom lip gently in return.

He pulled her body in tighter to his with his right arm cradled around her shoulder, but he let go of her face, to reach around behind her to toss the pillows there to the floor, before gently lowering her to her back.

His right hand caught her behind her head, and the palm of his left was pressed into the bed at her shoulder. Cradled slightly under him, she grabbed his face in her hands, extending her neck, and pulling him even closer to her.

He dropped his right arm, so when she leaned back again her neck rested on his bicep, the front of his body pressed along the left side of hers.

He cradled her chin in his left hand, softening his kisses. He pecked along her jaw, while he slid his long fingers against the skin of her neck, bringing them to rest on her clavicle, before he lifted his mouth from hers, moving back to look at her face.

She didn't even open her eyes. She moaned a protest and pulled his face to hers again.

Their hands wandered over one another, and he dropped little butterfly kisses along her jaw, before he ran his tongue along her neck and sucked at her pulse point. 

She pulled her knees up, pushed them together, as she pulled him close, unable to keep from fidgeting.

He bit at her clavicle gently, then ran his tongue along the soft skin below it to soothe the stimulated nerves.

She ran her fingers through his hair, then pulled him up for another long, pulverizing kiss, before he pulled his right arm from behind her neck. He moved so he rested on his elbow, his hand above her head tangling in her crazy hair.

He pushed the wide collar of her v-neck shirt even lower on her shoulder with his left hand, his eyes skimming over the valley between her breasts and the blue birds nestled above them. 

He ran his fingers lovingly over each blue bird, feeling just the slightest change to her skin where the ink rested within. He dipped his head and kissed each bird, before he nipped at her skin and ran his tongue along her sternum. 

She whimpered, digging her fingers through his hair, and arched, lifting herself towards the slick warmth of his mouth .

When she pulled his face into hers for another kiss, he supported her neck and pulled her upwards to him, and once she lifted her shoulders from the bed, he pulled her shirt off over her head.

In a moment of shyness, she tried to pull him in for another kiss, but he pulled away slightly so he could look at her. 

She was flushed to the tops her breasts. Smooth pale skin, blue birds on her chest, the deathly hallows inside her arm, edges of rose petals and other pieces of art that peaked over her shoulders and around her upper arms, her pale pink nipples hardening under his scrutiny, and blush lace panties, he took it all in.

"Wow, Jem."

She sighed, "Fitz."

She lifted herself up on her elbow and ran her fingers over his face, gently kissed his lips with quick, fluttery kisses, before rolling her shoulders back onto the bed, and raising her eyes to his.

They drank each other in, their blown pupils, their ruffled hair, their swollen mouths.

She reached out, closing her eyes, to pull him into another kiss, but he resisted, not yet through with his inspection.

"Please," she begged, opening her eyes.

He was looking at her mouth, but raised his eyes to look into hers, his expression changing to one of wonder, before his mouth descended to hers, their lips crashing together with an almost punishing force.

He trailed the fingers of his left hand between her breasts, then ran his flattened palm back and forth over the smooth skin of her belly, rocking her slightly side to side. He continued rubbing her, sliding his fingers up her right side, over her ribs, and along the swell of her breast.

She instinctively placed her right hand over his holding it there, where she wanted to be touched, and released his mouth, tilting her head to lick the tender skin just below his right ear, and nip and suck the sensitive flesh near his collar.

Her hands moved in constant motion, slowly rubbing at him, pressing along his shoulders, lightly scratching at his scalp, mapping his upper body. Her mouth continued to move over his throat, and against his ear, her warm breath shuddering against his skin, as she held him close to her.

He shuddered under her attentions, then moved her chin aside with his finger tips, to assault her with the same overtures, trailing open mouth kisses over her skin, before sliding his tongue experimentally over her left nipple.

When she gasped, and whimpered, then held her breath, he pulled it into his mouth and sucked gently. She unconsciously lifted her hips a little, and sighed, cradling him in her arms.

She leaned forward to run her tongue softly over the helix of his ear, which prompted him to pull on her harder, and she bucked, moaning his name breathily against his ear.

He lifted his head to look at her, and she pulled him back to her face again, with barely open eyes. His mouth was soft and wet from kissing her body, and she squirmed under him.

Her breaths came short and heavy, and she half turned into him in an effort to get closer, shamelessly rubbing herself against him seeking more contact, more of his touch.

He kept kissing her, running his hand softly up and down her torso, before using his finger tips to trace circles around her straining nipples one at a time.

He slid his palm over her rib cage, to her belly, then trailed his finger tips across the edge of her panties, before he slid them lower still, touching her center through her lacy underwear, unerringly finding her clit and rubbing across it with the pads of his fingers.

She whimpered and lifted her body toward his hand, her panties already soaked with desire, as he rubbed his fingers over her through the lace, over and over.

Suddenly, he slid his hand to her belly, then downward again, fingers scooping in, so that his hand ended up inside her panties on her sensitive flesh. She moaned against his mouth and whispered his name, kissing him heatedly, while pushing her hips upward, surrendering herself to sensations he elicited by merely moving his hand against her. Her breathing hitched and stuttered as he rubbed her, touched her. His finger slid slickly across her, slippery and wet with her ever building hunger.

They moved together, his fingers rubbing across her expertly, pulling her nerve endings taught, her pelvis lifting against him setting a delicious tempo. Their rhythm quickened, and she broke off their kiss in an effort to drag more oxygen into her lungs, as her body pulsed with anticipation, small waves lifting her higher and making her desperate for release. 

She turned her head into his right shoulder, her face pressing into his neck, and her lungs stuttered, releasing warm, wet breaths on his skin. He rested his cheek against hers to nuzzle her, while he kissed along her temple and breathed across her ear, sometimes feathering small kisses into her hair. 

Her movements became increasingly more uncoordinated, and her body shook as she neared the edge. Needing him closer, she snaked her arm around his neck, pulling herself even tighter against his throat, shutting her eyes tight, mumbling and moaning, helplessly.

Then as her orgasm tore through her, her voice broke as she cried out, arching her back, pushing herself against his hand, pulse after pulse quaking her body as she moved and rocked. 

When it became too overwhelming, she circled her small fingers around his wrist, in an attempt to still him, but he kept rubbing her as she shook, and mewled into his neck dragging out her pleasure as long as he could. 

When she couldn't take anymore, she squeezed her knees shut around his hand.

He stopped moving, but didn't pull away, and she released his wrist to jerkily run her hand up his arm, crossing his shoulder, then resting it against his neck. 

Her breathing was ragged, her chest heaving. Her body quivered, and involuntarily, muscles contracted within her every few seconds.

He waited, his hand still against her, his face still leaned into hers, letting her decide when to move. Minutes passed before she slowly pulled her face away from his neck. 

When he felt her movement, he pulled his head back, also, to look at her face. His expression was sincere and a little unsure, but she noticed he was a little breathless, too, and his eyes were still darkened with desire for her.

She looked back at him stunned, dazed, for several seconds, then grabbed his face and kissed him hard on the mouth, still shaky and breathless.

"Jemma, you are so beautiful."

She didn't speak for several seconds, then she brought her hand to his face, and breathlessly asked, "Why do you know how to do that?"

He smiled gently.

"I am very good at applying concepts others have written about."

"Then you've never... done that before?"

"No, Jem."

She lifted her face and kissed him again, then looked into his eyes, and ran her finger tips over his jaw. She smiled slightly and her eyes dropped to his swollen mouth, before she looked into his eyes again, and quietly asked, "Have you ever... been with someone?"

His voice was thick, "You mean intercourse."

"Yes."

He answered honestly, "No... It wasn't anything that I really thought about... before... " then curiously asked, "Have you?"

"Um no... " she looked away, a little embarassed to continue, "but not for lack of thought."

He chuckled, "What does that mean?"

"That my experience is limited to what I have done... by myself," she blushed.

He looked at her, his eyes burning into her, then lightly kissed her neck, scraping her skin with his scruffy jaw.

Eventually, he spoke, "Jem, I'm going to move my hand. You might be sensitive."

She nodded, but still shivered and jumped a little when he moved.

She pushed up to her left side, so she was pressed against him, and reached over his shoulder to push the rest of the pillows to the floor. Then she pushed him onto his back, and rolled with him so she ended up sitting on his thighs, her knees at his hips.

His hands came up to rest on her thighs as he looked adoringly up at her.

She leaned over, lifting her weight off of him to kiss his mouth, and when she sat back down on his thighs, she pulled him up with her until he was upright, her tugging his shirt off over his head, and tossing it blindly away.

He grabbed her face, wrapping his fingers around her neck, tangling them in her hair. He tilted his head up to kiss her mouth, then moved his lips along her neck, while she rubbed her hands softly over his shoulders.

He licked and sucked and bit the inside curve of her left breast, and she cradled him to her as his hands rubbed over her back.

He slid his tongue over her nipple, before pulling it into his mouth, lightly running his teeth over it, while she mewled, arching into him.

When he leaned his head back to look up at her, she leaned over and kissed him, touching his face, while he held the back of her head, his fingers laced tightly into her tangled hair. Then, he rolled back onto the mattress, pulling her over him.

She pressed her chest and belly to his, and shivered, when he ran his palms up and down her bare back.

She nipped at his jaw and kissed his neck, and when she sucked his earlobe into her mouth, he groaned and lifted his pelvis, knocking against her.

She pressed herself against him, reciprocating his movements, and continued to kiss his along his neck, working her way to the side to suck his earlobe into her mouth and run her tongue over its curves and crevices.

He sucked in harsh, uneven breaths, placing his hands on her hips, pulling her against him, grinding her soft warmth against his hardness. 

Her breath hitched, feeling his erection against her. She rhythmically rolled her hips against his, him controlling her pace by moving his capable hands over her thighs, her hips, and her bottom, causing her to gasp and buckle.

She bit along his clavicle and licked his throat, then she kissed him all along his jaw, before she turned her attention back to his lips, her tongue plunging deep into his mouth.

She reached between them and untied his scrub pants, pulling on the waist to loosen them at his hips, and he trailed his fingers up and down her thighs, her mouth remaining locked on his as they moved.

She slid her hand down his front and rubbed him through the fabric of his boxer briefs, and he sighed, pressing up into her hand, as his hands moved to her face, pulling her even deeper into his kiss.

She pulled the waistband of his boxer briefs down in the front with her left hand, holding them out of the way, and ran the palm of her right hand over him, before circling her fingers around him, and softly moving over his skin. He gasped into her mouth, but kept kissing her, his hands on the back of her neck.

She gripped her right hand around him and moved it up and down, until she found a steady rhythm, and rested her forehead against his.

He moved his hips against her hand, his fingers digging deeper into her hair, his mouth pressing kisses all over her face, neck, and shoulders, before again taking her mouth.

She nuzzled away from his lips, and she dipped her head to lick and bite along his neck, while he rubbed his hands along her shoulders. 

As she worked her mouth over his skin, she trailed her tongue down his chest, passing over his nipple, making him shudder under her. 

Then she quickly pushed herself downward until she straddled his left leg, and kissed the tip of his cock. He took shallow breaths, watching her, his hands kneading her shoulders.

She put her lips around him, and took him deeply into her mouth, sinking until he hit the back of her throat.

She started moving up and down using both her mouth and her hand, and he lifted his right hip, pulling his boxers down enough that she no longer had to hold them out of the way. She kept her right hand locked around him, moving up and down over his length, caressing over his hip and belly with her other hand. 

His pelvis moved up with every downward movement of her neck, and his hand shook on her shoulder. She pulled her head up, and sucking hard on the velvet tip of him, looking into his eyes, while still moving her right hand over the length of him.

The finger tips of his left hand fidgeted along her jaw lightly, and his right hand covered her left, squeezing, arresting it where it made another pass across his belly.

He gasped, murmuring her name over and over, before clenching his fingers onto her shoulder to warn her of his slipping control, "Jem?"

She didn't stop moving her hand, but lifted her head long enough to look him in the eye and quietly breathe, "It's okay," before taking him back into her mouth. 

She moved her right hand to his hip, and pushed her head down as far as she could, gagging herself several times, him cursing and moaning as she moved over him. She replaced her hand around him continuing like before, but at an even quicker pace.

He squeezed her hand tighter with one hand and grabbed the sheet near his thigh with the other, letting out a strangled groan when he came. 

She continued to move her mouth on him, until he was spent, and swallowed everything down, when he was done, both of them breathing hard.

As soon as she lifted her head, he grabbed her by her upper arms, and dragged her up his body pressing her to him. 

Then, he took her face between his hands, and kissed her deep and slow, still panting for breath.

They kissed slowly and sloppily until their breathing returned to normal, and when she lifted her head and he saw her swollen mouth, he kissed her deeply again.

She ran her fingers through his hair, and when their mouths separated, she ran her thumb over his bottom lip.

They didn't talk for a bit, just looked at each other, trailing fingers over one another.

Eventually, she broke the silence, and whispered, "I like more."

He kissed her, again.

"I like more, too."

 

(to be continued)


	9. Chapter 9

Jemma shifted her weight off of his torso, and slid her feet off of the bed, to the floor. She scooped his discarded tee up in her hands, and pulled it over her head, before going into the bathroom to relieve herself.

After finishing, she tossed her soaked panties into the hamper, made sure his shirt covered her bottom, and went to the sink to wash her hands.

Her eyes went wide, at her reflection in the mirror. Her mouth was swollen and red, her lips puffy and tender, and she had stubble burn on the skin of her jaw and throat, that extended down her neck, and disappeared below the collar of his shirt.

She slowly pulled his shirt off over her head, while standing in front of the mirror, and examined the details of the marks left on her body. Her pale skin was covered with small, patchy, erythematous areas, where his scruffy face and neck had rubbed against her flesh, and she noticed a hickey on the inside curve of her left breast. 

She ran her fingers over her hypersensitive skin, before she pulled his shirt back on and into place.

She located an elastic in her vanity, and pulled her hair up on top of her head, quickly flipping it into a bun, before returning to her bedroom.

She walked over to her dresser, and opened the top, right drawer. She took out a pair of purple, satin, bikini briefs, and pulled them up her legs, to cover her bottom, under his tee.

Then, she turned to face him.

He had picked up the pillows, and pulled back the covers, while she was in the bathroom, and again, he was leaning back against her pillows.

He looked at her fondly, and mumbled, "You stole my shirt."

She looked down at her torso, then raised her eyes back to his.

As she walked to his side of her bed, she boldly pulled his shirt off over her head, and held it out to him in her hand, when she got close enough to touch him.

When he looked up at her, she saw just a flash of uncertainty, before he concealed it.

She stopped, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he responded, and smiled at her reassuringly.

She raised and eyebrow, "I know almost every look you have, Fitz, and that wasn't nothing."

He hesitated.

"I'm just trying to process, that you... want to be with me."

She dropped the shirt, "Fitz, you need to stop."

She put her hands on her hips, and he looked at her thrust out breasts for just a second, before he reluctantly raised his eyes back to hers.

"You... are so damn smart, and exceedingly methodical, and... well, you are also extremely supercilious, but... you are not weak, or needy, so... so stop fucking acting like it."

He raised his eyebrows at her use of profanity, then opened his mouth. 

She stopped him dead, holding up her hand, "Not yet."

"And while my own anxiety and cowardice previously prevented me from disclosing my personal objectives, where you are concerned, I assure you that living on that horrible planet for six months, has proven quite therapeutic for my reticence."

She sighed.

"Fitz, we have had a shit year, but we are still us. "

He looked amused by her statement, then dropped his eyes to his lap.

When he lifted them back to her, he looked shrewd.

"Simmons?" he said in the clipped, lowered voice that had always indicated a challenge. 

"Yes?"

"Tell me... that you missed me," he said in a calculating tone.

"Of course, I missed you, Fitz."

"Now," he paused for effect, "tell me... that you love me."

He looked up at her, impishly. 

She smirked, "It's about damn time, Fitz."

He smiled for a second, "Now... Simmons."

"No more Doubtful Fitz, please."

He coughed, then tried to look stern, "I am waiting, Dr. Simmons."

She laughed a little, but evaded, "Well... I've been saying it for years.... Perhaps, not to you directly, but definitely about you... Maybe, you just weren't paying attention, Dr. Fitz."

He grabbed her hand, "Tell me... Jemma, please."

She grabbed his other hand, too, "Turn side-ways, and face me."

He smiled, and slid over, and sat on the edge of her bed, with is feet on the floor. He dropped her hands, and pulled her between his knees, resting his hands on her hips.

She leaned over and quickly kissed his lips, unable to stop herself. Then, she straightened back up, not completely unaware that her bare chest was directly at his eye level.

She pulled his chin up to look at her face, then looked at him seriously, "Fitz, I want you to look at my back, really look, okay? And then tell me what you see. Will you do that, please?"

He nodded, puzzled and curious.

She turned away from him.

"Tell me what you see."

"Okay... um, a snowflake," he said quickly, not sure if that was what she meant.

"That was the first image I ever saw under an electron microscope... and it was my first tattoo... What else?"

He touched her back with his finger tip, "A Pterophyta leaf?"

"Correct... Fern was the name of my great-great aunt. She raised my grandmother, after her brother and his wife died in World War II."

He traced the fern with his finger. He hadn't heard that story... yet.

"Fitz, do you want to continue?"

"Yes... a compass."

"For my travels..."

"An anchor."

"My parents."

"A crown."

"Home."

"Leptidea sinapis?"

"Yes," she turned enough to cradle his chin in her hand for a moment, "I love that you know that."

He smiled up at her.

After a moment, she turned back around.

"They are for my trepidation."

He ran his fingers over the papery butterflies, and she shivered.

"You're brilliant, Jem. What gives you butterflies?"

"You."

Stunned silence radiated for several seconds, before he asked, "Me?"

"Yes. My sympathetic nervous system is very reactive to... um... your proximity."

He smiled and thought it over.

"Thank you."

"You are quite welcome, but we aren't finished."

"Okay..." 

"What else do you see?"

"Stars."

"Those stars are what you are looking for, Fitz."

When she didn't say any more, he grabbed her hip, and shook it, wiggling her in place, "Explain, Jemma."

She laughed, and reached back to touched a star low on her left hip, then turned over her left shoulder to look at him. 

"This star... is Denebola."

His eyes flashed, seriously, to her face, then back to her hip.

She reached back again with her left arm across her back and touched another star wide on her right side, in her infrascapular region. 

"And this star... is Regulus."

She reached across her chest to touch another star, just over her shoulder, near the right side of her neck.

"And this star is... "

She waited. 

His voice was a little husky, "It is Rasalas."

"It is... Do you see the rest, Fitz?"

"Um, yeah," he touched her back, softly running his fingers over another star, " This star is ... "

"Zosma," they said together.

Then, he touched another one, "And this one is Algieba."

He kept going, "This one is Adhafera."

"Chertan..."

"Algenuibi..."

He grabbed her right arm, and pulled her around to face him.

He said thickly, "It's Leo."

She smiled, "It is... for you."

He swallowed, then he tried to look stern, but failed, "Now say it... out... loud."

She wrinkled her nose at him, then smiled.

She grabbed his hands, and pulled him up to stand in front of her. She lightly touched the hair at his temple, then gave him a quick kiss on the mouth.

"I love you, Leo Fitz."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, and hugged him tight.

He pulled back from her embrace, to look into her eyes, "Good, because I love you, Jemma Simmons."

She whispered, "You better."

He whispered, too, "I do."

They looked at each other for a few seconds, then he smiled.

She laughed at his expression, "What?"

He slapped her hip lightly, "Turn around. I want to see it again."

She laughed, but turned, so he could examine her skin again.

He kept touching her, running his fingers over her entire back where the strategically placed stars shone, an adequate representation of constellation Leo, him.

"Fitz?" she said softly.

He was still enamored by her tattoos, "Hmm?" 

"I just wanted to let you know, that my deflowering is now on the agenda for today."


	10. Chapter 10

Unfortunately, their shared agenda did not align with Hydra's, and the minutes and hours of loneliness, turned into days and weeks, following their intimate activities, and time blurred with a series of events that separated them from one another, prior to the actual consummation of their new relationship status. Fitz was sent away on an important, but classified, mission, teamed with Hunter and Bobby, and unfortunately, they needed to be communications dark, for weeks, maybe months. SHIELD was further plagued by medical staffing shortages on the base, so Jemma stretched her time between the laboratory, the isolation pods, and the medical emergency bay, working in excess fourteen hours, each day, ongoing for weeks at a time.

Jemma was thinner, paler, and carried black circles under her eyes. She pulled into herself again, and became increasingly stoic, and resigned, like she had been immediately after her return through the portal, but she was still an active, and valuable, member of the SHIELD team, and a highly intelligent biochemist. She continually completed every work task with extreme precision, and unerring accuracy. 

She initially threw herself into continuing her work on the inhuman gene allele project, but that initiative was temporarily tabled, not only because she was currently managing all of the bio-hazardous isolation pods concurrently, but also because the increasingly vast number of agent casualties, constantly inbound to the base's emergency bay, displayed just how disastrously devastating their fight against Hydra was becoming.

Over the weeks, Jemma became more and more emotionally isolated as she worked tirelessly to heal the injured SHIELD agents oozing into the emergency bay.

Over a grueling nineteen hour stretch, she repaired Agent Zander Abel, who had been impaled by a rudimentary five-prong grappling hook, fired through his abdominal wall by a Hydra agent, while he was off base on mission. She put him back together from the inside out, and she did an amazing job. 

She used synthesized organ fibers to manually repair the damage to his viscera, using micro-suture technology, then used a synthesized vasculating compound to promote almost instant angiogenesis, enabling the development of new micro-circulation vessels, creating a grossly sufficient blood supply for necessary connective tissue restoration, including collagen fibers, and cartilaginous, fatty, and elastic tissues. 

She bathed the exposed fatty tissue and wound edges with an antibacterial wash, then used a blue-tip laser to stimulate the subcutaneous and dermal skin cell surfaces, before approximating them, using a cyanoacrylate substance to adhere each tissue layer to the other using cell membrane polymerization. 

She smoothed the exposed, damaged, epidermal cell surfaces, and applied a synthetic bonding agent, containing both collagen and elastin, to promote healing, reduce scarring, and improve overall skin surface flexibility, while also protecting his body from pathogenesis.

On another day, she spent hours, meticulously setting twelve different bone fractures within Agent Yash Brunae, who had suffered several musculoskeletal injuries, when a three-quarter ton, Hydra-agent-driven, Duramax truck viciously struck at him while he was riding a motorcycle, in an attempt to abscond from Hydra incarceration, and make his way to a SHIELD extraction point, only surviving, because they assumed he died during the attack. 

She repaired him, did meticulous work, using micro-laser alignment technology to approximate the bone edges within each fracture, then slowly, carefully, injected each fracture space with genetically engineered morphogenic growth proteins, organic bone filler, to create a fibrous tissue and cartilage pseudo-callous, covering the damaged bone edges, with a semi-solid membranous bio-surface. 

She also utilized pulse electromagnetic field therapy to further reduce the normal immobilization, non-weight-bearing, stage of bone healing, from approximately six to eight weeks down to only four days, and started him on calcium, magnesium, and vitamin D supplementation, instructing him to take it over the entire duration of the remodeling phase, several months.

Because of her treatment plan, Brunae was weight-bearing, and in physical therapy, a mere ninety-six hours after initially sustaining his injuries. 

There were others, other days, other field agents, known and unknown, that she put back together as gently and meticulously as she would reassemble him, if needed, when he eventually returned. 

Weeks turned into months, but she kept going, working, trying. She didn't have Coulson fooled into believing that she was well, but he knew she was still stable, and did good work, and he watched her try to get through every day, one second at a time. 

When Mack was rushed into the emergency bay, she momentarily faltered, seeing the critical condition of the quiet, kind engineer. Mack had sustained multiple gunshot injuries, and he was seeping blood, gasping for air. 

A med-evac team, along with a couple of members from his tactical team, carried him into the bay on a narrow stretcher that was much too small for his hulking frame. He was covered with his own blood, sticky and gelatinous, his body ravaged by bullets, macerating his right upper chest and shoulder. There was blood covering his teeth, sputtering out from the corners of his mouth, every time he released air from his lungs. He was pale and trembling. His eyes were open, and tears flowed freely from them, but he was incoherent, clearly in shock. 

Dr. Corey, the medically trained surgeon who managed the emergency bay, rushed forward to coordinate Mack's cares, in an attempt to save his life. He yelled orders to the surgical technicians and nursing staff. 

An intravenous line had been started during his transport, and a benzodiazepine was administered through one of its ports, to sedate him. A non-rebreather mask, with a positive airway pressure lock, was placed over his nose and mouth, and pushed, forced, high density oxygen into his lungs with each uncoordinated, but still independent, breath he drew. His blood was typed and cross-matched, and a technician was dispatched to get several units of donor blood from storage, while his clothing was cut from his body, his wounds more thoroughly examined. 

Then, suddenly, his blood pressure dropped even lower that it had been upon arrival, and his pulse became tachycardic and thready, stuttering, as hypovolemic shock, secondary to his blood loss, threatened his life. 

Before a bedside chest xray could even be ordered, Mack went into respiratory distress, his respiratory rate increasing significantly to compensate for lack of oxygen, but his breaths were ineffective, forced, and choppy, and he exhibited signs of discomfort, even under the light blanket of anesthesia. 

The surgeon prepared to perform a tracheostomy, believing the issue was with his airway, and activate artificial ventilation, initiating life support. But before he could get started, Jemma yelled directions of her own, and knocked him out of the way. She donned a pair of sterile gloves, and after some light palpation, plunged a scalpel between Mack's ribs, followed by a hemastat clamp, forcing open the clamps teeth within his soft tissue, opening the incision, to create a hollow, open space, from which a copious amount of blood started spewing.

As blood forcefully gushed from the incision, the pressure within his pleural cavity reduced, and his respiratory effort became more effective, and less stuttered. 

Once Jemma yelled, Dr. Corey immediately noticed what she saw, the minorly visible deviation of his trachea from midline to his right, and quickly determined that she correctly suspected a tension hemothorax was its cause. Bleeding, within Mack's pleural cavity, created so much encapsulated, trapped pressure, that his left lung collapsed against its force, and was unable to inflate, his heart and airway displacing to the right, strangling the life out of him. 

Dr. Corey calmly put on his sterile gloves, and once the initial pressure was relieved, and his blood flow slowed to a moderate drip, he took over control of the clamp that rested within Jemma's small hands, and physically placed an indwelling, suctioning chest tube, through the perfectly placed perforation she had created. Over the next seventy-four hours, nearly thirty-six hundred milliliters of blood slowly drained out of his pleural cavity. 

On Mack's fourth day post-injury, Jemma used a thirty milliliter syringe to flush 0.9% saline into his thoracic space, and subsequently removed the residual blood clots from within his chest wall. The sixth day, his chest tube was removed completely. Mack would need time to heal, but he was going to make a full recovery.

Once Dr. Corey retook control of Mack's case and started placing the chest tube, Jemma discarded her gloves and washed her hands, but washing away his blood was futile. It was all over her, from head to toe, and as soon as she knew he was out of immediate danger, Jemma's adrenaline started to tank, mild panic replacing her educated urgency.

She hyperventilated and looked around, seeking out an avenue to escape the emergency bay. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't hear. Her muscles flexed and jumped under her skin. Her hands trembled. Her tears threatened.

She ran for the locker room nearest the emergency bay, and didn't stop until she was under the hot spray of water in the walk-in showers. She crumpled to the floor with her back against the cool tiles, not bothering to remove her clothing, or shoes.

Coulson was notified of Mack's condition, even prior to his arrival back at the base, and witnessed a live-feed of Jemma's educated, and heroic actions. 

He also saw the possibility of an impending breakdown, when she fled the area.

He responded himself, ran into the locker room, unsure of Jemma's emotional state.

He found Jemma, leaned against the tile wall, with her knees pulled up tight to her chest. Her chin was resting on top of her knees, and her eyes were closed, with lines of exhaustion surrounding them, on her pale face. The falling water rinsed Mack's sticky, red and brown, caked blood off of her body and clothing, and away from her, leaving finger-like like streaks of red from her body to the single, central shower drain in the middle of the shower floor.

He cautiously knelt beside her, under the streaming water, and placed his hand on her shoulder. Jemma opened her eyes and pulled her head back to rest against the tiles behind her.

"It's okay, sir. I am stronger than I look," she stated resolutely.

"Jemma, I worry about you... You are working a lot of hours, and I appreciate your determination, but are you sure you are okay?" He spoke softly to her, sincere about the work she was doing, and grateful that she was on his team, but worried that she was taking on too much.

"My brain is numb, and the rest of my body is just... plain exhausted... but really, all I really need is a proper shower... and a few hours of sleep."

"I saw the feed. You saved Mack in there," he continued, "Take the next few hours to shower up, and rest a bit. We need you sharp." 

"Mack isn't in the clear yet, but... thank you, sir," she said simply.

"That sounded a bit self-serving, as it left my mouth. Please understand. I also care,"Coulson said guiltily, referring to his statement that she needed to stay sharp, even if it was the truth.

"I know you do, sir," she said sincerely, resting her hand over his on her shoulder, "and you have taken responsibility for all of us."

He nodded, grateful for her understanding and commitment, "Do you need anything Agent Simmons?"

She met his gaze, and asked softly, "Will you please tell me, again, that he is safe?"

"He is safe, Jemma. They will be home soon."

He gave her shoulder a small squeeze of reassurance, before pulling his hand back to rest at his side.

She sounded only a little wobbly, when she responded again, "Thank you, sir."


	11. Chapter 11

"Does she know I'm here, that I'm back?"

"No Fitz, that is why you are not in located in either of the standard pod bays. If Jemma knew you were back on base, she would run right into this isolation pod with you, and I'm sorry, but I can't run the lab or emergency bay without her for the next twenty days, once she's contaminated herself. I need her to stay focused on her work, right now. Once you are out of isolation, you two are unofficially approved to "fail to report" for ninety-six hours. But after those four days, Fitz, I need you back to work, both of you, together."

"I understand, sir."

"I know you two don't tolerate separation from one another overly well, but she did some amazing work while you were gone."

"I'm sure she did, sir. She's brilliant."

"That she is," Coulson agreed simply.

Coulson then added, "She has saved several lives, over this past year... including Mack's, a few month's back."

"I didn't know," he said quietly.

Then frustrated, he ran his fingers through his hair, "I have been gone for a very long time, sir. I don't even know where to start, when I get out of here."

"Start in your quarters," Coulson stated gently, "Jemma moved her things in there about a week after you left."

He was stunned, "She did?"

He nodded, "She mentioned being there helped her sleep."

"Later, she made it permanent," he continued lightly, "By the end of your second month on mission, she completed all of the necessary paper work to sanction your cohabitation," adding, "I signed off, and reassigned her quarters to another agent, assuming you would concur."

Fitz replied softly, a little dazed, "No. Um, yeah... Yeah, I do. That'll work."

Coulson stepped closer to the glass wall, gently placed a lap top into the pass through drawer, and pushed the send button, delivering it to Fitz inside the pod.

"I will need your initial debrief within the next forty-eight hours."

Fitz nodded absently, thinking of other things, and lifted the laptop out of the drawer.

"And Fitz..."

He distractedly ran his fingers over the smooth surface, "Hmm?"

Coulson waited for Fitz to make eye contact, before he spoke again.

"If you try to hack the base servers for information, before you complete your report," he said pointedly, knowing how Fitz felt about Jemma, and that he would want information about her as soon as possible, "that laptop will shut down, and it will not power up again."

Fitz mouth dropped open, and his ears turned pink.

"I had Daisy program it, so even you can't crack it. She included a data regulator, to keep you on track, but... She also preset that specific device to auto-import and chronicle all pertinent base activity, from the day you left, roughly a year ago, until yesterday, when I had her turn off the feed. That download will spontaneously start, once you have completed all of the initial debrief's necessary fields, and electronically sign off on your report."

Fitz recovered enough to snap his jaw shut, and nod hurriedly.

Coulson smiled gently, and sighed, "And if I know Daisy, you will have every Jemma detail, you could ever hope to possibly have... on top of what I actually approved."

Fitz smiled and nodded again. 

He was sure that Daisy would deliver.

 

As promised, fifty-four weeks of SHIELD data started pouring into the lap top after he submitted his initial report to Coulson.

The information was well-organized, and useful, but there was an abundance of it, and it was incredibly time-consuming to review it all.

He confronted the covering physician about the implementation of an electronic data interval limitation, but his insistence that the restriction be lifted was unsuccessful, so he was allowed a mere nine hours of information streaming within each twenty-four hour period, and although Dr. Corey listened and sympathized, SHIELD policy was followed.

At the beginning of each laptop session, there was an option to review previously presented information or proceed, and once that section was completed, the timer counted down from nine, as information flowed, categorized and chronicled.

After seven full days, he finished his review of the archival information, and he found it fulfilling, even comforting, to know what had happened within SHIELD, especially on base, during his extended absence.

But instead of turning off, with only four minutes and fifty-six seconds left on his daily countdown timer, an extreme close-up of Daisy flashed onto the screen of the laptop.

"Hiya Fitz. I'm so glad you're home, and I'll be down there to see you, as soon as I get clearance from Coulson... "

"Okay, so originally, Jemma and me and the other guys, we planned to make you some fun little videos, that you could watch when you got home, or that maybe we could send you, if you guys were ever able to open comms..."

"But you were gone for a long time, Fitz, and I want to warn you, that... that this thing... it kind of grew... evolved into something bigger..."

"It got darker than what I had initially anticipated... and I just wanted to prepare you."

"Some of this is going to be difficult to watch..."

"I did not edit anything that I felt you needed to see, so.. it's uncut, and pretty raw... but it is amazing, too... "

"It's just that... well, you just need to see it for yourself."

"Anyway... love you, man, and see you soon."

The screen flashed black for a millisecond, before Daisy's face was again in the frame.

"Hello!"

"Wow... it has been nearly six weeks, since you left, Fitz, but... I've been out on mission, too, but I just got home... and Jemma, she was killing herself in the lab, so this is our first chance to get together and get something started for you," Daisy chuckled.

She smiled really big and said, "Anyway... Happy Valentine's Day!"

She turned the viewer, blurring lines on the screen for a moment while she spun the camera away from her face. Jemma appeared on the screen, in a little black dress, strapless, body-con, and sinfully short. She had on black satin high heels, and her make-up was flawless. Her eye make-up was dark and dramatic, thickly lined, smudged, and sexy, but her lips contrasted, puffy and shiny, but nude and sparkly. Her hair was curly and loosely pinned to the top of her head, like it was already slightly mussed, from someone running their fingers through the pinned masses.

"Happy St. Valentine's Day, Fitz," she said, flashing her bright smile towards the camera, genuine and beautiful, but her eyes betrayed her a little, half-closed with sleepiness.

Her smile was achingly sweet, grossly optimistic, almost childlike. 

She did an achingly slow, full turn, and he realized first, that she was in his room, now their room, and second, that there was absolutely nothing sweet or childlike about that dress skimming over every slight curve of her still slightly too-thin body.

She gestured down to herself, then back at the camera, "This is the dress I would have worn tonight, if you were home, and..."

She blushed, but only slightly, his newly emboldened Jemma.

She unzipped the side zip, under her left arm, and pushed the dress down her thin pale body, slowly swaying side to side until it cleared her hips, then let gravity carry it to the floor, before she stepped out of it, still wearing her heels.

"And this, this is what I would have worn underneath," she smiled mischievously.

She wore a unadorned red satin, boned bustier, with half cups, that left an ample amount of soft, smooth, softly rounded breast exposed above each cup's upper border. She also had on tiny, matching red satin bikini bottoms, and when she repeated the full turn again, it was obvious just how brief her bottoms were, leaving the lower, lateral half of each cheek of her bottom exposed, bare.

The ensemble also left a thick, smooth, strip of pale skin exposed from where the minute bikinis' waist band stopped enticingly low on her abdomen, reaching only just above her pubic bone, to where the bustier's bottom border began, just below her lateral rib border. Her belly was flat and pale and smooth, her back tattoos ever peaking from underneath whatever she wore.

She looked into the camera, sincerely, and said, "You know that I love you... and I wanted to let you know that I miss you... so much," she sighed, and bit her lip, then her voice ended on a broken whisper, "and I hope you are safe."

She smiled bravely, with tears in her eyes. Then, the countdown reached zero, and the device powered down for the evening.

He touched the black screen with his fingers, running them over its smooth surface, now black and lifeless.

He took a long shower, and prepared for bed, a small smile on his face at receiving such a personal, and openly revealing, message from Jemma, especially so soon after they had revealed their feelings to one another.

He wasn't sure what he expected when he got home, but he admitted to himself, that he had been scared, anxious that maybe things had changed while he was gone. And although he was frustrated that time had run out for the day, he was thankful for, and relieved by what he had seen, and was optimistic about what was yet to come.


	12. Chapter 12

The next morning, Fitz was again offered the option to review the previous day's data, but he declined, excited for more Jemma footage to filter onto the screen.

Daisy's face popped up on the screen, and she was smiling, clearly amused.

She talked softly as though conspiring with him on something, "I wanted to get this on video for you, because she hasn't done this, since way before Maveth. Wow... I think last time I saw this was on the bus. I just happened across her doing it today, by chance... Lucky for you... And, she is so cute, Fitz. She doesn't realize she's doing it... So, um, yeah. You're welcome."

She turned the camera. 

The lab was lit up, and Jemma was inside working. She had on a short, yellow skater dress, with slouchy marled socks and untied, worn combat boots, that were folded over onto her ankles, displaying a red and blue and yellow checked pattern that was usually on the inside. Her hair was pulled up into a messy bun, and she had her ear buds in, the cord skimming along her torso, before disappearing into a pocket in her dress.

She was softly singing to herself, as she checked specimens under the microscope's lens, and she was dancing.

She was bouncing on her toes, dipping her knees every once in a while, and swaying back and forth, as she completed her inspections, and logged data into her desk top computer. She shifted her weight from left to right, over and over, her bottom moving in time with the music playing in her ears, and when she hopped into her chair, she giggled as it spun around once, then kicked her feet quickly to the floor to make it spin around a couple more times, pulling her knees to her chest, unknowingly flashing her bare outer thighs up to the hip to any passers by.

The song must have changed, because she laughed happily, then jumped out of her chair and twirled over to the centrifuge. She hopped a few times on her toes, before spinning around once more where she stood. She sang the upbeat, happy song playing in her ears, and hummed the parts where there were no words, and only instruments played. She drummed her fingers absently on the counter top, and shook her bottom, then raised her arms into the air up over her head, before donning a pair of purple nitrile gloves, grabbing a blue polyethylene rack from the upper shelf, and unloading the test tubes from the centrifuge one by one into rack, careful that all of her labels faced the same direction. She hopped into the closest lab chair, and rolled back over to her microscope, before raising herself back to her feet, and dancing once more as she continued with her work.

She was carefree and lost in her own world, and did not notice when someone else entered the lab. 

Dr. Corey halted just inside the lab, observing her movements, silently waiting and watching, with a surprised little smile on his face, as Jemma, oblivious to his presence, carelessly and happily, danced and sang, facing away from him.

When she did finally turn enough to see him, she jumped with surprise, then squared her shoulders and faced him, guarded, before tugging her ear buds out, and tucking them into her pocket.

Dr. Corey smiled, with his hands lifted, palms forward, apologizing for the intrusion, and then moved forward to discuss something with her quietly.

They spoke for a few moments, before he turned to go.

When she returned to her work, she tucked the ear buds back in, and Dr. Corey stopped and turned back, looking at her, longingly, sighing loudly, before he tore his eyes away, and left the lab, eyes cast downward.

The camera smoothly turned back to Daisy's face. Her eyebrows were raised up in stunned surprise.

"Well apart from Jemma's happy performance, I think we just stumbled onto something else altogether, Fitz. I believe the good doctor might have a little something brewing for our girl, so... I will keep watch, and update you as needed... ... Over and out."

It had been a long time since he had smiled any wider. Jemma was so completely adorable.

Jemma used to sing and dance, at the academy, when she was working on a project alone, but never when anyone other than Fitz was in the lab. Later on the bus, he noticed that Daisy had also become privy to it, clear evidence that Jemma trusted her.

Jemma, as a person, was utterly efficient. 

Flawlessness and absolute precision filtered through out her every project.

But, he enjoyed thinking over those memories, when she had danced like a teenager, happy and careless, and she had sung like a child, care-free and confident.

Only recently was the more sensual Jemma revealed, and she seemed to move a bit more seductively, smooth and sinful.

She was a beautiful combination of scientist and child and woman, and he was well aware that he was not the only person who noticed that perfection.

_____

 

Jemma's bare, pale pink, freckled face appeared on the screen. Her hair was pulled back from her face, a lumpy bun on top of her head. The skin under her eyes was smudged slightly lavender, and her lips were berry pink, like they were when she chewed on them, sometimes, when she was mentally working her way through something, perplexed, in the lab. Muted purple, satin camisole straps were visible over the curves of her shoulders.

She looked tired, and yawned, before laughing lightly, "I missed St. Patrick's Day, Fitz, altogether, I missed it. I was too busy working, in the lab and in the emergency bay, to stop and celebrate anything... and I admit that I am dreadfully tired, but... I feel like I am doing really well... making progress with my work... So, I am a few days late, and well... since I admit that I am exhausted, I am only going to drink half of my celebratory St. Patrick's Guinness." 

She turned her head for a moment, and her still damp hair shined, but separated into small conjoined waves, within her bun, like she had just showered. 

When she faced forward again, she smiled, and held up the big black can, as evidence, before she took a drink, "Cheers, Fitz."

She smiled sweetly, but with the look she always gave him, when she knew she had gotten her own way, "Oh, and you and I are going to share your quarters, when you come home... I've already moved my things."

She laughed again, "It saves you and me... you know... the conversations we would have had... and possibly blundered, while we were leading up to it together."

"I can imagine your side to those conversations, you know... You would stammer a little, but eventually agree, sliding your hand to the back of your neck adorably, while you nervously thought it over... Even though the answer is completely obvious... God... I miss you, desperately."

"And don't worry, Leo, you know me. Ever following the rules, I already filed the paper work with Director Coulson."

"I am sorry... I am so sorry, it took so long for us to get where we are now, but I appreciate everything we've been through, every second we have had leading up to this... and... and anyway, you know I love you."

"Good night, Fitz."

He watched her on the screen, smiling when she smiled, repeating her words of love back to her when she spoke them, and hoping she knew just how much.

_____

 

Jemma's face was extremely pale. Dark circles blemished the skin under her red-rimmed caramel eyes.

Her hair was wet and down, loose around her shoulders, and she had one of his gray cardigans wrapped around her.

She rubbed the heel of her had across her forehead and sighed in frustration.

She looked utterly exhausted, but determined, "Mack was shot today."

She continued desperately, "I did everything I could, Fitz. I keep thinking about it, and I don't... I can't think of anything else I could have done today in the bay... I promise, I did everything."

"He is still critical, but he's alive, and I promise... I promise... that I will do everything, everything I can, to make him better."

Of course, the official incident reports had already been released to Fitz chronicled with the rest of the base's streamed archival information, so he already knew what had occurred. 

He knew that she had been the one who recognized the hemothorax and saved Mack, and that her presence and her actions in the bay had ensured that Mack had the best possible chance of living, during the most emergent phase of his injuries. 

He had even read Dr. Corey's separate report, indicating the same, that without her accurate assessment, quick thinking, and appropriate intervention, that Mack's outcome may have been very different, and significantly less favorable.

He had also seen the emergency bay's security footage, on which she was utterly amazing.

He was puzzled by how Jemma perceived the situation, when it was still acute, raw and new, before the outcome was yet known. 

She was worried that she should have done better, and he realized, sadly, that she thought he might blame her, or question her actions, if Mack didn't make a full recovery.

_____

 

Jemma's eyelids were puffy, her cheeks flushed and blotchy and wet, her nose red.

She opened her mouth to talk, but she started crying instead, sobs tearing from her throat, tears trailing down her cheeks, spasms shaking her little body with enough force that she gasped for air. She sputtered and squeaked and covered her face with her hands, and then she moved out of the frame, leaving only the image of the back wall of their quarters on the screen. 

She could still be heard, muffled, but obviously weeping, somewhere off screen.

Eventually, the sobs slowed and quieted, and were replaced with sniffles and sputters and hitched sighs.

When she shakily crept back into the frame, her face was even more blotchy than before, and her eyes were almost swollen shut. Her mouth was red and puffy, and she kept running her hands over her cheeks, wiping at the wetness on her skin. Her breaths still hitched shaking her torso, making squeaking noises, like young children sometimes do, when they have cried long and hard.

Her voice was breathy and hoarse, "I keep dreaming about you... "

"And-" 

She squeaked and hitched.

"And-"

She squeaked and hitched, then again, and again.

She sighed, and tried to swallow.

She attempted to take a deep breath but her diaphragm stuttered, and she shook. 

She wrapped her arms around her sides and rubbed at her quaking ribs.

She tried to speak again, but could only manage a whisper, "I know it's not real... but... "

"But," she sighed and shook, "I can actually feel you touching me and hugging me, um, and holding me... And... and you... You are so warm, and... "

Her tears started falling again, but she numbly continued, ignoring them.

Every blink of her heavy lids produced more drippy streaks on the smooth, shiny skin of her cheeks.

"And... "

She looked at the camera, and her eyes looked haunted, tortured, "I love you so much, I just... "

"I want to put my arms around you... and... or... "

She mimicked reaching out, with a small sad smile on her lips, "Or just... touch your face."

She shakily jerked her hand back, then gathered up the hem of his cardigan and rubbed it roughly across her cheeks.

She didn't speak for several seconds, her eyes closed, her thick, wet lashes shadowed heavily on her cheeks.

When she continued, she squeezed her eyes shut even tighter, and little lines formed between her eyebrows, like she was hurt, but determined to fight her way through it.

"But when I reach for you... I can't... "

Her right hand moved to rest on her left shoulder, and she opened and closed her hand several times, where it rested.

"I can't feel you, and... and... It wakes me up... "

She opened her eyes.

"And... then, I realize... you aren't really here..." more convincingly, "You aren't here."

She sniffled, and took a deep breath, "So now I spend every night, hoping... "

"Hoping... I'll dream of you... and then, I try to force myself to... to not... "

"Um.. not to reach out for you," she sighed, " so you'll stay... "

"And just be with me... for a little bit longer... "

She drew another shaky breath, "Even if... "

She sighed, and pressed her palms to her face, "... even if you aren't here, and it is... just in my head."

He paused the laptop's feed, then stared at Jemma, frozen, and broken, on the screen.

Observing that level of pain racking through Jemma was torturous.

He was oddly reminded about the Jemma he had hallucinated himself, when she had left him, and then he became even more upset.

He had been gone so long, maybe too long.

He wasn't even sure how long ago this video was recorded, or how she was doing now.

He needed Jemma now, always, as much as she needed him, and he wept for both of them, long and hard.

Those tears were a long overdue, and it took a long time for them to subside. 

His chest ached, and his ribs burned, and his head throbbed, by the time his body stilled, exhausted and limp, and he slept for a while.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know the Daisy videos are running a little long, but bear with me...

When he woke up later, his throat was scratchy, and his eye lids felt heavy.

He took a shower, then splashed cold water on is face, before he returned to the bed and picked up the laptop. When he touched the keys, the screen lit up, coming back to life.

Jemma's crying form was still frozen on the screen, but he must have paused it right near the end, because when he hit play, it switched to the next item, automatically.

A picture of him, with Jemma, flashed onto the screen. They were standing side by side, but their heads were towards each other, laughing. They had straps over their shoulders, like they were lugging around equipment, and they looked so happy.

That was one way he liked to think of Jemma, with her eyes crinkled closed and her mouth smiling wide, because she was happily laughing.

__________

 

Mack and Jemma flashed onto the screen. Mack was in a blue tee and black basket ball shorts, and Jemma was in a black sports bra and cropped black yoga pants.

They were on the sparring mat, smiling, with their hands on their hips.

From behind the camera, Daisy yelled, "Wait a sec, let me set this up for Fitz."

Mack and Jemma stretched.

Then, Jemma hollered, "It isn't that funny, Fitz. We are just humoring her."

Mack just smiled.

"Okay, so Mack and Jemma are running together in the mornings, now, before they go to the lab to work. Jemma needed some aerobic activity-"

"Hey!"

"And Mack is building back up his stamina, in addition to his physical therapy regimen."

"So I walked in yesterday, and recommended that they spar, which was like watching a chihuahua run around a great dane, by the way... ... Okay, do it."

Jemma grabbed Mack's arm, on his uninjured side, and pitched her body forward, as if to flip Mack over, but instead, Mack lunged forward a bit and caught himself on the mat in front of her with his hands.

It was comical. Jemma was so tiny, that instead of moving Mack, she just pulled him over her.

"It was so much better when I saw it happen in real time, but... It's still funny..."

Jemma just spun out from under Mack, while he bridged over her.

She bowed, then smiled, "And she escapes, unscathed... Ta-da!"

Mack easily stood back up from the mat, and smiled, shaking his head back and forth.

Jemma took another step forward, "Really Fitz, I need you come home, now, so we can create a silencer, better yet, a muzzle, for Daisy's mouth."

Daisy just laughed.

Jemma walked towards the camera, "Let me film, while you two really spar."

The camera jostled a bit changing hands, then Daisy joined Mack on the mat.

They sparred for a bit, and it was entertaining to watch.

Jemma chuckled from behind the camera at some points, and squeaked sympathetically, during other parts. In the end, Skye dropped Mack three times with no problem.

Mack just chuckled good-naturedly.

Jemma said, "Meet you in the lab in twenty, Mack?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Then, Jemma turned the camera towards her own face. 

"You know, I love you... Be safe."

He was feeling better again, already.

He watched a while longer before turning in for the night.

__________

 

He worked through some debrief follow-up for the a large portion of the morning, before the laptop reverted back to Daisy's compilation.

Skye and Lincoln and Mack and Jemma were all on the screen, in their swimwear, outdoors, somewhere with green grass and sunshine.

"Happy fourth!" Skye and Mack yelled. Skye had on a stars and stripes bikini, and Mack was wearing royal blue swim trunks. Slightly discolored, pinker, and paler skin stretched across the left side of his chest and shoulder, but he moved without difficulty, and had a smile on his face.

Then, Daisy frustratedly yelled, "Jemma!"

"I'm just here for the sparklers and beer," Jemma said cheekily, wearing a union jack bikini. "We Brits don't celebrate America's independence."

Everyone laughed, including Jemma. 

Daisy yelled, "Talk to Fitz, May."

The camera turned away from the group and toward the person holding it, Agent May.

"Stay safe, Fitz."

Then, there was a series of still photos.

Instead of music, Daisy narrated the pictures for him.

Daisy laughed, "Lincoln and I told Jemma we were going to have a Slip-n-Slide, but of course, Mack and Jemma took it away from us. They went inside lab storage for about ten minutes with the packaged pieces, and then came back out with three extra bags full of stuff. When we got here, Mack and Jemma assembled it on this pseudo-gel thingy they pulled out of somewhere. It was awesome... and the first time I didn't get bruised ribs from playing on one of those things, and May and Andrew were also relieved 'cuz it didn't kill their lawn."

"These next pics are of Jemma and Mack having the shortest drinking contest, I have ever witnessed," she sighed, "Jemma was adorable, and hopelessly lost the game after round four... but she definitely had fun that day, Fitz, and she laughed, more than I have seen her do, in months."

There were some pictures of Jemma and Mack through out the day, sitting close, sometimes heads bowed towards one another.

"Ever since Mack was injured, they spend a lot of time together, when he's not out on mission. It never occurred to me, or any of us really, until he was hurt, that he lost Hunter and Bobby and you, all at the same time... Jemma and he, they help each other feel better... She spent a lot of time with him, while he was recovering, and attended therapy with him, while he was healing. They are still running together, and she's even doing laser treatments on his scars, and thinks she will have his skin fully healed within the next two to three weeks."

There were pictures of Jemma and Skye, laughing. There were some of them in sunglasses, and some with their tongues sticking out. There were pictures of them playing croquet.

"We had fun all day, and Jemma kicked our asses at croquet. She was ruthless."

Daisy sarcastically continued, "I don't know if you know this Fitz, but she can be a little competitive."

Daisy laughed.

"Jemma told me about the stars, Fitz... so when we had a few minutes alone, she and I took these pics for you, too."

A picture of Jemma's posterior flashed up on the screen. Her hair was pulled into a bun on top of her head, and she was wearing her bikini bottoms... but her top was off. Her arms were held slightly away from her body, palms forward, in true anatomical position. She had her head turned to the left, revealing her profile, and her white wayfarer sunglasses. He could see her entire back piece at once, and most of her shoulder and upper arm work. Most importantly, he saw Leo. It was amazing, like when she showed him the last day he was home, the last time he saw her, the day he left.

In the next picture, Jemma faced forward, her left arm and hand covered her breasts, and her right hand covered her mouth. 

Then, the screen flashed to Jemma again, her palm up, held to her chin, her mouth formed into an "O," like she was blowing a kiss into the wind.

"I already have the hard copies printed. They are in your work station in the lab, right drawer, under your digital calipers, pink envelope... You're welcome."

________

 

Jemma was sitting on his bed, their bed, with her legs folded under her. She had one of his cardigans wrapped around her, covering her from shoulder to upper thigh, where her bare legs protruded from under its hem. Her hair was loose and wavy around her shoulders. Her face was bare, and more freckled than normal, like maybe she'd been in the sun.

Daisy's voice came from behind the camera, "So, we are going to interview Jemma today, just you and me, Fitz."

Jemma laughed, "He knows everything about me."

In her best doubtful reporter voice, "But does he really?"

She laughed at Daisy, "Ask your questions, dork."

"How are you projects coming along, Dr. Simmons?"

"There are several things for which I am making successful advancements," she answered diplomatically.

"Boring."

"You asked!"

"I know... I think what we really want know is... Are you sure Agent Fitz is definitely the guy for you?"

She rolled her eyes, "Daisy!"

"I know he's got that nerdy science thing going for him, but really?"

"Stuff it. You know he's the one for me, and so does he," She looked at the camera, "Your nerdy science thing, it's incredibly hot."

"Well, the attraction was obvious for about... Oh, um, yeah, forever... I thought you two might burst into flames on the bus... Seriously... Certainly glad the two smartest people in SHIELD finally figured it out."

"I knew how I felt. I just wasn't sure how he felt."

"That's a little funny. I always thought that it tilted a little bit the other way... that Fitz was into you more than you were into him."

"Really?"

"Yep. You guys were always so sync'd... Then, after a while, he had a hard time being separated from you, even for a day or so... and he hated Trip."

"I think maybe no one noticed my side of it, because it had been going on for so many years. It was just normal to hide it. I have lived through every crush and girl friend he's had since the academy," she looked at Daisy then, "including his crush on you."

"Yeah, for like a week. Everyone crushes on the new girl, Jemma... I'm more interested in Fitz having girl friends? Fitz... had girl friends?"

"He didn't spend every evening in with me studying. There were quite a few girls seeking out his attentions."

"Really?"

"Do not sound so incredulous. We were all in a very academic setting, and he was the smartest guy there. He was definitely catnip."

"Catnip?!"

Jemma raised her eyebrow, "Yeah. He attracted pussy... Haven't you heard that term?"

"Yeah, but not in your proper British accent."

Jemma smiled, "Oh honey, my internal monologue is riddled with filth... Anyway, before he left, I asked him about it, and he said he's never slept with anyone."

"That had to be encouraging."

"It didn't make me feel bad."

Daisy laughed, loudly.

"You may injure that poor boy."

"Perhaps." She chuckled, then admitted, " Although, I don't think he'll have any problem holding his own."

Daisy turned the camera to herself.

"You weren't invited for girl talk, Fitz, so we're gonna have to let you go, while I probe Jemma for your man-stats."

Fitz was puzzled for a moment, before he figured out what Daisy meant. Then he rolled his eyes. Jemma had seemed pleased with his man-stats. That was good enough for him.

_________

 

"And, we're back, Magic Hands."

"Daisy!" Jemma laughed.

"So Fitz confessed he loved you when Asshole Ward dumped you into both in the ocean?"

"What he said was that I was more than his best friend."

"What did you say back to him?"

"In the ocean? Nothing. There wasn't time, and I couldn't think. He told me that only one of us could survive, and I remember I just hugged him, kind of desperately, you know, touched his face. I didn't want to let go... But he just told me that his way was the only way. Then he pushed the oxygen canister into my hand, and pressed the button to blow out the glass... So, I pulled him to the surface of the water, but I couldn't give him CPR, treading water in the middle of the ocean. So, I held him, knowing he was dying, and there was nothing I could do about it... "

"That's rough. I never thought about what you went through out there."

She shrugged, "He lived."

"I'm so glad you guys are finally together."

"Me, too. Now I'd just like him to come home."

"I know, Jem... Now sleep. You look tired."

"Night, Daisy. Love you, Fitz."

There were more pictures and other snippets of videos that filled the hours of his days.

_________

 

"Okay, I found her like this... She works too much.... Anyway, I hope you don't think it's weird... You should've been the one that walked in on this."

Daisy walked into his bathroom, and Jemma was asleep in the bathtub.

Her upper back was flat against the bottom of the tub, and her hair fanned out in the water. One arm was crossed over her flat belly, and the other one was crossed over her chest, her hand resting on her opposite shoulder. The tips of her breasts rested above the water line, but were partially hidden under her arm. Her hips were tilted slightly to the left, and her knees rested against one another along the back wall of the tub, her tiny feet resting on the tub's ledge, to the left of the fixtures.

Daisy sing-songed, "Jemma... Jem."

Then Daisy's hand reached out from behind the camera and rubbed Jemma's right knee, lightly.

Jemma sighed, then blinked up at the ceiling a couple of times, before rubbing her hands over her body absently, not realizing how amazing she looked writhing around like that. Eventually, she turned her head to her right, tiredly looking at Daisy... and the camera.

Jemma raised herself up on her elbows, leaning back for a second to let the water drip out of her ears and off of her hair. She probably hadn't meant for it to look seductive, but it most definitely was, breasts all thrust out, neck stretched and head tipped back.

"Morning, Jem... or, evening rather. It's about nine."

Jemma continued to blink heavy, then she mumbled, "Daisy, if anyone other than you and Fitz ever sees this, I will poison you."

Daisy chuckled as Jemma pulled herself up to stand. 

Instead of reaching for a towel, she snagged Fitz' oldest, rattiest, but softest, cardigan, from the towel bar, and pulled it on over her dripping body. It clung slightly, but she was petite, so it reached her upper thighs easily, and could be pulled together overlapping in the front.

She yawned and passed by Daisy, who followed her out into the bedroom. Jemma didn't stop walking, until reached the bed, where she clumsily climbed in on top of the covers.

"Does Fitz know you use his sweater as a robe?"

"Hmmm," she mumbled, " I suppose he does now... "

Daisy chuckled again.

"Do they need me in the lab or one of the bays?"

"No, Jem. I was just checking on you... and when I saw you asleep in there, it just made me think it was a missed opportunity for Fitz to find you there like that for himself, so I recorded it for him."

"Hmmm... You're sweet."

"You can sleep now."

"Mmm 'kay. Love you, guys."

____________

 

Over the next few days, Fitz completed evening more mission debrief process follow-up questions, and was able to eventually finalize the final report.

He met with Dr. Garner to undergo his mandatory psychiatric evaluation, and several days passed, before he was able to get back to Skye's electronic care package.

________

 

"How's the lab without Fitz here?"

She tilted her head to one side, and answered truthfully, "Well, we work faster, when we're together, certainly... But, I am qualified to work independently, Daisy... He refused to work with me for a while, if you remember, and the lab was still productive."

Daisy spoke softly, and quickly, not thinking, "What if he doesn't come home, Jem?"

Jemma jumped back like she had been slapped, her expression filled with surprise and hurt. Her eyes looked as big as saucers on her tiny face, as they filled with tears.

Daisy quickly whispered, "Oh, shit!" and quickly set the camera on the bedside table, so the image on the screen was flipped on its side. 

Daisy launched forward, and put her arms around Jemma. She spoke quickly, her voice full of remorse, "Jemma, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to say that out loud, not that way... I was thinking about what you are going through, and it fell out... "

She pulled back to look at Jemma's face, and although she wasn't visible behind Daisy, her soft sniffles could be heard. 

Daisy gathered Jemma back into her embrace, her chin resting on Daisy's shoulder, and he could see her closed eyes and wet face.

"God, you don't need to think about that... I didn't mean to do that to you, Jemma. I am sorry. I am so sorry," Daisy's voice broke as she rushed on, "Jemma, I didn't mean to say that... Coulson says he's okay, and I believe him. He wouldn't lie to us, Jemma."

Neither woman spoke for several minutes. They just sat there, Daisy, with her arms around Jemma, and Jemma allowing herself to be held.

After a significant period of time, Daisy whispered, "Are you okay, Jemma?"

Jemma nodded into her shoulder, and Daisy pulled back, again blocking Jemma from view. 

Then Daisy backed off the bed, and out of the frame.

Jemma sat on the bed with her legs folded underneath her, her hands rubbing over her face... She took a few deep breaths, each one slower and smoother than the one before it.

Daisy popped back into the frame, but further to the left than prior, and she pulled several tissues from a box, before handing the box over to Jemma. 

Jemma started to pull a tissue from the box, but stopped, when Daisy leaned forward to gently wipe her tear-stained face.

Daisy cradled Jemma's chin in her left hand, and tended to her like she was a child.

Daisy whispered again, "I'm sorry."

Jemma opened her mouth several times to talk, but eventually, she closed her eyes, and just sighed.

After a few moments, Jemma looked resignedly at Daisy.

She took a deep breath and released it. She spoke softly, her voice hoarse, "I know it is a possibility-"

"Please. don-"

"No... It's okay," Jemma took Daisy's hands in her own, and looked into her eyes, "I play that scenario in my head, several times, everyday... ... I was just surprised, I think, when it tumbled out of you... It seemed somehow... I don't know... I guess he seemed safer, when I thought I was the only one thinking it."

"Jemma?"

"No, Daisy... Really... " She released Daisy's hands, and cupped Daisy's face in her palms, "If I need to learn to live without Fitz, I will... But, I am not ready to give up yet."

Jemma pulled Daisy into a comforting hug, then, but quickly released her.

"We'll do this another day."

Jemma nodded.

Daisy backed out of the frame.

_________

 

Jemma was in the laundry room, sitting on top of a top load washing machine. Her hair was pulled up in a bun, and she had a simple red tank and cut-off denim shorts on, her bare feet dangling over the front edge. 

"What do you want, Jemma, when he gets home?"

"Well, first of all, he has to come home... Then, I would like for us not to be separated again, EVER."

She laughed a little, "Realistically though... a while."

"... and I would like us to continue working together in the lab, preferably here, on base."

"Those things sound pretty standard. Is that it?"

"For now."

Jemma sighed, and smiled embarrassed, " I know that he... " she cleared her throat, and she looked directly at the camera then, "You, Fitz,... I know that you get some input on what we do with our lives... but I like to be prepared. In fact, I excel at preparation, so I tend to think things through, kind of run mock scenarios in my mind."

Daisy giggled, and the camera moved a little bit, side to side, "I'm sure he knows that you haven't finalized a life plan without him... just... what are a few things that you think about... that you'd like to happen."

"I just want him home."

"Really, Jemma? That's all you've got. Dig deep, sister. What about in five years or ten ye-"

"A baby," she said wistfully, then all at once, clapped her hand over her mouth, shut her eyes, and blushed bright pink.

Skye gasped, but said nothing.

Neither of them said anything for several minutes, but eventually, Jemma lowered her hand from across her mouth, and placed it in her lap with her other hand, bowing her head.

She didn't look up, but quietly spoke, "I have never said that out loud before... but I thought maybe he and I could just talk about it..." 

Then she shrugged, and said quietly, almost guiltily, "I just hoped..." She looked up at the camera, to Daisy, "I do hope... that one day, obviously not right now, but that... that would be something we could have... if he's not completely opposed to the idea."

Daisy moved forward and the camera shifted to the far wall, as she moved forward to hug Jemma. 

Her voice could be heard as she spoke softly, "Jemma, it's okay to want things like that for yourself... and for him."

He paused the video, his mouth a little slack. 

Jemma wanted a baby, someday. His baby. A little part of him, and he hoped, a lot of her, perfectly combined into a new life. 

They could definitely talk about that.

_______

 

Coulson was on the screen, holding a cupcake. 

"Happy birthday, Fitz," and he took a bite of his cupcake, then stared at it, "You are missing out, Fitz. Jemma made blueberry "pancake" cupcakes, with maple frosting."

He looked back to the camera, and said, "Finish your mission, so you can come home."

Then it cut to Lincoln and Daisy, and they each had cupcakes in their hands, too. 

Daisy said, "Happy twenty-ninth, Fitz. We miss you... but I am not ashamed to say, that without you here, I may actually get more than one cupcake before you devour them all."

She held up her cupcake, "Jemma made coffeecake cupcakes, with brown sugar, caramel icing, and topped them with roasted pecans."

Lincoln held up another cupcake, "Happy birthday, Fitz. She also made dark chocolate cupcakes filled with some type of raspberry filling-"

"Compote-"Jemma's voice yelled.

"Yeah, compote... and they have chocolate fudge frosting."

They each took a big bite out their respective cupcakes, getting icing all over their noses and mouths. Then, they turned to each other.

Simultaneously, they talked over-lapping one another, "This is so good-oh my-will you-can I-just a bite-"

Then they held up their cupcakes to one another, so each could try the other flavor, and they both smiled in appreciation, before peck kissing one another quickly, childlike and happy, oblivious to their stickiness.

May and Andrew were next on the screen.

Andrew started, "Happy birthday, Fitz. You are missed, and we hope you are well."

May nudged him lightly in the ribs, and he looked at her adoringly, before he continued, "Oh yeah, Jemma made white cupcakes with, white frosting, and sprinkles."

Then May said, "Happy birthday, Fitz. Be careful... "

She held up her cupcake to the camera. 

"Simmons also made pumpkin, chocolate chip cupcakes with cream cheese frosting... And Fitz... I just wanted to let you know, the prank, a while ago, in your bunk on the bus... Yeah, that was me."

Jemma yelled from somewhere off camera, " Agent May?! That was brilliant."

May smiled, and quietly said, "I know."

Mack's portion followed.

"Happy twenty-ninth. Jemma and I, we made this batch together. It is blue-raspberry Jell-o cake, with whipped topping, and blue sugar crystal sprinkles. Look, we stuck little tardises in the top of each one. Miss you, Fitz. Hurry up, and come home... And, please, bring Hunter and Bobby with you... ... Love you, Turbo."

Jemma was next on the screen.

She smiled, "Hello, Leo. I made enough cupcakes to throw a party for you and invite everyone on base. I even made up a new cupcake. It is banana cake, but it has a brownie center, and peanut butter frosting."

She held up a cupcake, "Look, I even made them little monkey faces."

She had halved a mini peanut butter cup for its ears, then piped the edge of the cupcake with chocolate, and drew a little monkey face on it.

"I miss you, Fitz. Come home soon."

A series if still pictures, scrolled across the screen. There were pictures of a lot of people gathered in the hangar, some known to Fitz, and others who were strangers.

Daisy narrated again, "She really did throw you a party, Fitz. She invited everyone on base to attend, and it was a really nice celebration."

She continued, "Everyone adores her. Some of the people pictured, you don't know, but she saved most of them, in one way or another."

"Some are inhumans that she treated in emergency, or that she studied and cataloged... Some are field agents that she pieced back together... Some are both... inhuman agents, like me."

"She's also won over all of the medical staff. She helps them, and she works alongside them to care for the sick and injured. She educates them on new compounds and techniques that she has created, to help them all do their jobs more efficiently. They love her, Fitz... especially Dr. Corey." 

She continued, "Although, I completely pegged that one wrong. Dr. Corey was a field surgeon with the military, before he joined SHIELD. He was a prisoner of war, Fitz. He was locked up for two years. He missed his daughter's birth, and when he got home, his daughter was afraid of him, because he was a stranger. He wanted to comfort Jemma. He just didn't know what to say. He knew that he finally made it home to his family, but he knew men that didn't, and that you might not, so he felt like he should be able to help her, but he just didn't know how... Eventually, he introduced Jemma to his wife, and that seemed to help. It kind of helped Jemma not to get so bad, not to cycle so deeply into her depression, before she bounced back. She still has bad days, but nothing like the dream video you saw before."

It didn't surprise him at all that everyone loved Jemma. Even with her coming home home from Maveth a little different, she was still brilliant and caring, and it looked like she wasn't as guarded as she had been with everyone else before he left.


	14. Chapter 14

Jemma was positioned on her right side on top of a padded examination table, with a small pillow nestled under her head and neck. She had her left arm pulled up alongside her ear with her elbow bent, so her hand rested behind her neck with her fingers skimming over her cervical vertebrae. Her bare torso was exposed, displaying her soft, smooth skin from beneath the bottom edge of her rucked up tank to right above the waistline of her low slung, fitted jeans, and a nondescript purple image was visible across her antero-lateral ribs, mere inches below and lateral to her left breast, tucked under her arm, nestled within the hollow of her elbow.

Daisy's voice again rang out from behind the camera, "That is going to hurt, right Jemma?"

Jemma talked, but didn't turn to look at the camera, "I imagine so. This is my first, along the anterior ribs... "

A male voice asked softly from somewhere in the room, in a distinct Irish accent, "You ready, Jem?"

She turned a little more onto her back and looked over her shoulder to her left, "I am, Killian... Is it okay if Daisy films some of this for Fitz?"

"Yeah, sure, a chara" he chuckled, "What about your Leo, your a rúnsearc, your secret love?"

She laughed, then wrinkled her nose, "Killian, you remember everything. Fitz is my Leo, and thankfully, it is no longer a secret to him or anyone else."

The camera panned to an attractive, thin, blond, thirty-something man with warm smile and a calm face, who nodded his acknowledgment with twinkling eyes. Every inch of his arms not hidden under clothing was covered with tattooed art, the ink ending just proximal to his wrists, bilaterally.

Daisy prompted, "Okay, Killian. Tell us about you... "

He held up a finger, then walked over to inspect Jemma's skin, before shifting his eyes to hers, "Your prep looks about dry."

Then, he looked at the camera, "Give me a second to set up, then we can talk, while I work."

________

 

Jemma's arms rested in front of her, angling out ninety degrees from her shoulders with her elbows bent, so her hands rested on the pillow near her temple.

Killian leaned over Jemma's side, with one gloved palm firmly pressed flat to her ribs, and the other moving the buzzing tattoo gun over the purple guide-lines on her exposed skin.

Jemma's face remained passive and serene. Her eyes were closed, and her posture was relaxed, and she was motionless as Killian ran the vibrating needle smoothly over her milky skin.

Killian was extremely focused, and he gently wiped away residual blood and ink from her skin as he worked, superficial inflammation becoming increasingly more evident as he penned the pigment into its layers. Her smooth skin became corrugated with swelling and redness visible around each line of ink freshly pressed within.

Daisy asked, "So, Killian... how long have you known Jemma?"

"For years... I have done all of her work."

"Really?"

"Every piece... I like working with Jemma."

"Why is that?"

"She always brings me several different pictures and asks me to draw her an interpretation of them in combination, before she decides on any particular design... but again, she does excel at preparation."

Jemma smiled, when he used her phrase.

"But Jemma told you about Fitz... even before she told Fitz... about Fitz."

He raised his eyebrows at her redundant wording, and chuckled, "Oh yes, I know all about Leo. It's all part of Jemma's process."

"Her process?"

"Look, I've done this for years, and there is a difference between art and stamping. I can trace someone else's image, if it's brought in to me by a client. No problem. A few hours, and it's in their skin... "

He continued, "But the people who know what they want, and have a reason why they want it... They are always the most satisfied with their work, and it satisfies me to be part of that... Jemma... She creates art... There isn't one line on her body that wasn't chosen to be there... designed by us, for her... and that is what make her pieces amazing."

Jemma opened her eyes and spoke then, "Killian is being modest. He is an amazing artist, but he's also a genius, and he blurs his professional lines for me."

"What lines are those?"

"My primary field is Psychiatry. That's why I like Jemma's art. For her, it's therapeutic, but in a healthy way."

"Does that mean you are a medical doctor?"

He chuckled, "Licensed and and practicing, but I also have PhD's in art history and neuroscience."

Daisy snorted, "Of course you do... Why wouldn't Jemma's tattoo artist have three doctorates?" 

___________

 

Jemma was still motionless on her side with her eyes pressed closed, but her hands, now balled into small fists, rested below her right ear, and she was facing the camera more head-on. The skin between her brows was slightly puckered, and she held her bottom lip between her teeth.

Killian spoke softly to Jemma, and reassured her that he was almost finished, affectionately resting a a hand on her shoulder for a moment.

She acknowledged him with a little nod, but it was obvious that she was hurting.

Daisy spoke softly to Killian, "What do you think about all of Jemma's artwork together?"

"Her tattoos are so reverent and testimonial, and together, they are an amazing tribute to the life she is living... and the memories she carries... They have accurate symbolism, and I think we worked everything together seamlessly. No one can tell what came first or last. Everything is confluent and perfectly placed..."

Jemma whispered, "... including this one."

"Absolutely, Jemma," he reassured, as he wiped her ribs very gently, "It's finished... Do you want to take a look, before I dress it?"

Jem opened her eyes and smiled, sighing with relief. 

When she nodded, Killian helped her upright and down off of the table, before she walked over to a full length mirror, and turned and moved, looking herself over. She examined the new tattoo from every possible angle, before she finally turned so Daisy could get a better view on camera.

Across her ribs there was an amazingly detailed, antique-looking pocket watch, with a sturdy-looking chain nestled around it, and hanging from that chain near the t-bar at its end, was a St. Christopher medal.

She briefly spun away to hug Killian along her right side, carefully avoiding her tender skin, smiling ad complimenting, "It's perfect. Thank you."

"It is also my gift to you, Jem. Happy birthday."

"Thank you, Killian. You are a good friend."

"You, too, a chara."

_________

 

Jemma was in their quarters wearing a simple cotton periwinkle bra and panty set. Her hair was pulled back, and she was smiling as she walked further into the light, to better illuminate her new tattoo.

Daisy spoke, "Okay Jem. Now explain it to Fitz."

"The watch is for time... "

"The chain is for strength... "

"... and the medal is for safety."

"It means I'll wait... as long as I need to, for you to safely come back to me... "

She looked down and pointed to the medal penned into her ribs, "St. Christopher is the Patron Saint of travelers."

"Awww... Jemma... You already told me, and I'm still a little worked up... You are just so devoted and sweet... "

Jemma smiled, "I have my moments." 

Then Jem look directly towards the camera, "You know I love you."

He smiled. Jemma was so amazingly incredible and unbelievably stunning... and... She. Loved. Him.

________

 

There were more videos...

 

On Halloween, Jemma wore her Jack Skellington tee to hand out candy at Andrew and Melinda's house, and she was adorable... and as small as some of the trick-or-treaters.

 

On Thanksgiving, a large group of agents gathered on the base to prepare a meal together and eat dinner. 

Lincoln and Daisy were exceptionally affectionate and playful with one another, and Jemma explained that Lincoln had recently moved into Daisy's quarters with her, and that Jemma had completed and filed the necessary paperwork for them, fearing they wouldn't get around to it themselves. 

She shot footage of Mack huddled in a corner with a woman Jemma identified as Candace Velkner. Candace had been one of Mack's physical therapists after he'd been shot, Jemma explained, and they were seeing each other romantically now that he was thoroughly healed and no longer her patient. 

Jemma rambled on a bit about the process she implemented and biotechnology she utilized to treat Mack's scars, and told Fitz that it was impossible now to see any surface imperfections with the unaided human eye, because her new process left only minimal micro-scarring. Director Coulson had, with her permission, given all of her research to the American Academy of Dermatology to standardize and implement the practice all over the world.

Director Coulson did happen to be on base for Thanksgiving, Jemma mentioned, but he refused to stop working, so she told him that she had taken food to his office earlier, and she mentioned that he had looked tired, but that he had been appreciative of her hovering over him for a few moments, just the same.

Agent May was on mission, and Andrew was spending time with family, Jemma told him, so he wouldn't question their absences.

Jemma was able to capture video evidence of three living, breathing, eating Koenig brothers on base for Thanksgiving, and even took time to talk to them and tease them a little about their matching lanyards. They all smiled identically and talked to Jemma in tandem, a looping Koenig continuum.

She talked to him for hours that day, and carried around the camera like he was actually there with her.

People he'd never met in person before spoke to him on camera, introducing themselves and wishing him well, and it was all because Daisy and Jemma and the rest of his team had made sure that he was still there with them.

He'd been gone for over ten months by that point, but everyone on the base seemed to be aware of Fitz' video, and everyone who participated seemed to carry a little bit of Jemma's burden for her along the way.

It was almost like he was there with all of his friends, even though he obviously hadn't been. His friends had kept him in their lives the entire time he was gone, and Jemma never gave up, no matter how sad she was.

He was completely humbled... 

________

 

He woke up to find Daisy sitting in a chair on the other side of the glass reading a magazine.

"Hey..." he said rubbing his eye and climbing out of the bed.

"Hey... " 

She closed the magazine and stood up, walking to the window wall, "I wondered if I'd catch you awake... Jem kept such odd hours when she was in isolation, I thought I'd take a chance."

"I'm glad you did. I missed you, Daisy. I missed everyone... Jemma... The mission just kept getting extended... and I... I just couldn't get home..."

"No one blames you, Fitz. Whatever Coulson had you doing, needed to be done. We all get that... but we missed you, too."

"Is she okay?" he asked seriously.

She answered honestly, "She's doing as well as she can. She misses you, but she's hanging in there... "

He smiled sincerely, "Thanks, Daisy... for the video... for helping Jemma with... everything... "

"Are you kidding? What could I do? You guys are my best friends... Did you like it? Did you finish?"

"I'm up through Thanksgiving... "

"You'll finish in time for your release tomorrow... Are you ready... for your release I mean?"

"Yeah, but I'm anxious about it, too. It's like everyone kept living their lives while I was on mission, and I am just going to be dropped back into mine, with a weird Dr. Who time-lapse."

"Everyone did keep living their lives, Fitz. We had to... even Jem, as best she could... There really was no other choice... Live or die, right?"

"I know. I just-"

"It's okay... The archives and the video, they're the best we can do for you... We even made a similar one for Bobby and Hunter a few months after you guys didn't come home... and... You haven't even begun to tell us where you were or what you were doing... and other than Coulson asking me to move some satellites for you over the past three months, I know nothing about what you've been up to... "

"My mission is over... It was a means to a HYDRA end. I'm just happy to be home."

"Do you want me to bring her to you, Fitz. I can get her now.. You don't have to wait for your release. I can even bring her down here without telling her you're here, if you want."

"No, I think it's best that I wait and go to her... Come down and get me once she's settled in for the night... she'll be calmer then... and I'll be less likely to run into anyone else on the base... I would like to see her first, before anyone else... "

"I understand, Fitz... Tomorrow night, it is... "

______

 

Jemma filmed Christmas much like she had Thanksgiving, but since there was a lot less staff on the base, she and the remaining agents had a holiday Olympics of sorts. They played laser tag on the lower levels, and they had tactical gear donning speed trials. They tested their skills at the base's shooting range, and they had an air hockey tournament. They made pizzas and drank beer... and everyone seemed to have a good time.

She also video-chatted with her parents and his mum.

______

 

Jemma's smiling face took up the screen. 

"I made you this next bit for Christmas... Daisy will drop it in later, so it's in the right spot... And, some of it's sad, Fitz, but I want you to know everything... It's us, and I didn't want to leave anything out... No secrets... Total transparency."

"I love you, Fitz."

______

 

Virtually every picture they had ever had taken together, both his and hers, were mashed together into a photo-parade of sorts... 

Green Day's "Time of Your Life" played and photos of them together at the academy flashed brilliantly onto the screen. 

\---Tattoos and memories and dead skin on trial, for what its worth, it was worth all the while... 

A photo progression of Jemma's tattoos dominated the screen, starting with a photo of her bare back, then it melded into one with her snowflake at the upper center, melding into another with the anchor added to the left, and then the fern frond appeared spanning her right shoulder to her left hip, each image building on the last. The rose petals and butterflies appeared fanning back from her right shoulder, and the edges of her paisley became visible, wrapping around from its home on her shoulder. The crown appeared, and then the tucked-away hearts, and his stars, before the compass took its place, completing her back pieces. It hadn't taken more than ten seconds from start to finish, but it was... Jemma.

\---It's something unpredictable but in the end is right, I hope you had the time of your life.

Queen's "You're My Best Friend" played, and there were photos of them in the lab, in each of their dorm rooms, in the Boiler Room, in the laundry room, in the class room, in the auditorium. 

\---Ooh I've been wandering round, But I still come back to you...

\---You're my best friend...

There were presentation photos and candid photos, pictures of them dressed in everything from formal wear to pajamas. More and more academy photos littered the screen until the song ended, and a typed message appeared.

(And then things changed... for me.)

Jewel's "Standing Still" started playing, and photos he had never seen populated the screen one after the other. 

There were group photos in which everyone was looking at the camera, except for Jemma, who was looking over at him. 

\---Do you want me, Like I want you...

There were photos of her straightening his tie, and fixing the lapels of his lab jacket, and holding his hand while she tended some of his various lab injuries, and there was a familiar video clip from their second year's Spring Formal, or rather before it.

\---Or am I standing still, Out of the corner of my eye, Was that you passing me by... 

Fitz had attended with his girlfriend of a couple months, Lucie, and Jemma had decided not to attend, without ever stating her reason. But he had needed her help, so at his request, she had come over and helped him tame his curls, pick his cologne, tie his tie, and choose his socks. She had ordered and picked up the corsage, because he had asked, and had even set-up her video camera on a tripod in the quad, where Fitz and Lucie were meeting, to capture some footage to send to his mother. 

He watched as he slid Lucie's corsage onto her wrist, and she pinned on his boutonniere, before they turned and stood, gathered together, for a couple of still shots Jemma took with her pocket camera.

\---Feel broken down, Feel broken down...

He remembered what had happened next, but it wasn't included in the cut Jemma had sent to his mother, and he watched as Jemma ran forward to get his attention and hand him his forgotten keys, as she smiled her big smile and waved and nodded as he and Lucie walked away.

\---Do you need me, Like I need you... 

\---Are you passing me by... 

He didn't know what had occurred next, but he watched as Jemma turned and walked back towards the camera, swiping her tiny fingers across her visibly wet face, before the screen went black, and another message appeared.

(We had Sci-Ops... and the Bus... But then things got bad... really, really bad.)

No Doubt's "Don't Speak" started playing, and a picture of the ocean floated onto the screen. 

\---You and me, We used to be together, Everyday together always... I really feel, That I'm losing my best friend, I can't believe, This could be the end... It looks as though you're letting go, And if it's real, Well I don't want to know... 

Then there were photos that had been taken from Fitz' hospital suite security feed, when he was in a coma after the he drowned, him always motionless in the bed, and Jemma always looking so tiny in the chair next to him. Another message appeared.

(This also happened while you were unconscious... but I still maintain that I was fine... )

A video from the same feed played. Jemma sat in the same chair clutching at her chest, before she fell onto the floor, where she started seizing...

(Although... decompression sickness sucked... obviously.)

In the next picture, she was back in his room, sitting in the same chair, with her feet tucked under her, an IV line running into her left arm, and an oxygen line running into the mask over her nose and mouth.

(Coulson almost let May sedate me, but in the end I got my own way, and they let me stay.)

There was a photo of her curled into a ball next to him in his hospital bed, her back pressed to the side-rail, her hand resting on his shoulder, and she was so tiny, she looked like a child.

(Then you woke up... but you were so angry and confused and disappointed... ) 

There were photos of him awake: puzzled, angry, sad, and crying. In some, his hands covered his face.

(... And I was making you worse.)

There were pictures of her next to him with her brave smile, and others with her sitting on the floor somewhere with her knees pulled into her chest crying.

\---As we die, both you and I, With my head in my hands, I sit and cry... 

There were photos of each of them back at the base, individually, but no more of them together.

(I'm sorry I left you.)

Her HYDRA identification flashed onto the screen, then a picture of a prescription label with Jemma's name on it for Xanax, then the photo that Raina used to expose her at HYDRA...

\---You and me I can see us dying...are we?

Then, there was so much more... Daisy's genetic profile, a picture of Trip, small pieces of everything horrible that happened that year popped onto the screen in tandem...

(You were so angry with me... and I just didn't know what to say while we were working to repair us.)

The song changed to Rachel Platten's "Stand By You."

\---Even if we can't find heaven, I'll walk through Hell with you... Love, you're not alone, cause I'm gonna stand by you.

Pictures captured when they were working their way back to one another filtered on one after the other. In each one they stood a little bit closer, their posture a little bit more relaxed.

A picture of Hunter and Bobby together, shined on the screen.

(Then Bobby got hurt, and I wanted to tell you... You know I tried... )

Then a picture of the monolith in its case popped onto the screen.

(My own personal gateway to Hell.)

There was a picture of a letter, faded and worn and dirty, written in Jemma's hand on a scrap of fabric.

(Director Coulson kept this out of the official report, and returned this to me, so you haven't seen this before.)

(Only I would have a pen in Hell.)

(Do NOT cry... I cried enough on that planet for both of us.)

 

Fitz, 

I forever find myself being pushed away from you, like we are destined never to intersect again. I know now that I am destined to perish here in the darkness, on this horrible planet, alone, and that you will never read this, but I wish that I had at some point told you everything written hereafter. You are truly the best person that I have ever known. You have the truest heart and the most amazing mind, and I miss you, and I cry for you every day. I have loved you for nearly every day of my entire adult life, and I regret wasting precious time we may have had together, if I had been a stronger person. I am lonely, and I am scared, and I selfishly hope that dying won't hurt, because I don't want to hurt anymore. I just want to die, and I hope that you will take comfort in the fact that I am somewhere in the universe, so there will always be a part of me out there, and hopefully someday, residual parts of us will merge and become something great, and we'll finally be together, in some small capacity, even if it is presently intangible. I wanted a life with you, and children that were combinations of us, and I am so sorry that will never happen now. I want you to know that you are the smartest person that I have ever met, and I know that you are probably working so hard right now to bring me home, but it's okay. I'm failing you by not being able to find adequate resources to continue living, and I just wish I had battled harder, when fighting would have actually made a difference, and, Leo... I will think of you every single moment until I go. 

Always,  
Jemma.

 

(I gave up, before I met Will, but thanks to him -and you-, I made it home.)

There was one photo of Jemma with Will that Fitz had been able to pull from her sim card, and it flashed onto the screen for a moment.

Christina Perri's "A Thousand Years" started playing, and some of the horrific, post-Maveth photos shimmered on the screen. 

Thankfully, the medical photos of Jemma, bruised and starving, and him scraped and bleeding, quickly gave way to photos of them together, after they were released from isolation. 

\---I have died every day waiting for you, Darling, don't be afraid I have loved you, For a thousand years, I'll love you for a thousand more...

They looked so happy in the photos, though some captured a desperate edge, her knuckles white against his, because she was reluctant to let go of him in her early days.

\---Time has brought your heart to me, I have loved you for a thousand years... 

The last photo was of Fitz in his tactical gear, his bag slung across his body, getting ready to leave her almost a year before, and her tucked into him, with her eyes closed and her head resting against his shoulder.

(Life isn't always easy, and our scars... They give us character.)

(You know I love you.)

________

 

Jemma's pale face shined on the screen. She wasn't wearing any make-up, and her hair was pulled up on top of her head.

"I fell in love with you today, Fitz... ten years ago... "

She shuffled around a little as if settling in for the night, "It was on holiday over Winter break during our second year at the academy... ... We had spent Christmas with your mum, and we were staying at my parents' for New Year's... ... My dad and I had been out on the roof top with a telescope, looking at the stars, and of course, we got side-tracked... and we had barely made it back into the house, before we had to run down the stairs for the end of the countdown... and... I tucked myself under my dad's arm for a quick hug, I remember. "

"And when I stepped back, I saw you... You just barely touched my mum's arm to get her attention, and then you leaned down and kissed her cheek... Then you tucked her hand into your elbow, and walked her over to my dad... just delivered her into his arms... like it was nothing... You may not... probably don't even remember, but to me, I don't know why... It was everything... Loving you before, was nothing compared to how I felt after that... "

"I can't imagine there is anything you don't know about me now, Fitz... And I'll always want to tell you everything."

"Happy New Year, Fitz, wherever you are."

He remembered enjoying spending his holiday with Jemma at their childhood homes. He had always thought back pleasantly on their trip, but he never knew that something so life-altering had taken place. He'd had no idea...  


_________

 

Mack smiled into the camera.

"You have some competition, Turbo."

Mack turned the camera, and it revealed some type of reception hall full of people. 

Music was playing, and people were dancing, and as the camera zoomed in and people shifted around, he saw Jemma. 

She swayed back and forth and hopped to the beat of the music, as a chubby-faced, dark-haired, little boy, around two years old, giggled and hopped beside her... This went on for several minutes, but eventually the song ended, and another started in its place. 

Slow music started playing, and the boy looked up at Jemma, with a big smile on his face, and raised his little arms up in the air to her, where he impatiently opened and closed his hands several times, before Jemma knelt to lift him into her arms. She smiled, as she talked to him, and wrinkled her nose, and he wrapped his little knees around Jemma's middle, his lower legs dangling, and rested his head on her shoulder.

Jemma crossed her arms securely under his bottom, leaned back slightly to counteract his added weight, and swayed back and forth until the song was over. 

Then Dr. Corey appeared at her side, with a smile, and gently peeled the boy's sleeping form from her arms, and cradling the small boy into his chest, while Jemma rubbed at the boy's hair affectionately.

The camera turned back to Mack's easy smile, "That is Oliver, Dr. Corey's youngest, and he and Jemma are pretty tight. Better hurry up, man, "Mack chuckled.

He smiled. Mack looked happy.

And Jemma? She looked very comfortable with a toddler in her arms.

____________

 

Jemma sat on their bed. 

"It's been a year, Leo," she said with a sad smile, " It's not quite the anniversary I was looking forward to, but things seem to be getting better here, and Director Coulson seems less... distracted..."

"Please come home soon."

"You know I love you."

The timer was still rolling, but the lap top powered down.


	15. Chapter 15

"Jemma," he whispered, tucking her hair behind her ear, thankful that she had left on the bathroom light, so he could see her in the dim light.

Her eye lids fluttered slightly, and her lips relaxed from her sleepy pout into something softer, but she didn't awaken, so he watched her sleep for a moment, before he ran his finger tips over the hair at her temple, and tried again, "Jem?"

She stretched in her sleep, rolling from her side to her back, shifting her arms from crossed over her middle to stretched out loosely above her head. Her mouth relaxed and her lips parted slightly, and his cardigan that had previously been pulled in tight around her parted and pooled along the smooth sides of her torso, revealing her pale smooth skin, a cropped white tee, and emerald colored lace panties underneath.

He sat at the edge of the bed beside her, and gently ran his fingertips along her sides, "Jemma..."

She stretched again and blinked her glazed eyes a few times.

He whispered to get her attention, "Hey."

Her eyelids closed again, and she softly mumbled, "I love you."

"I love you, too," he whispered, smiling.

He gently rocked her side to side, with his hands still near her waist, "Jemma, please, wake up... Come on, baby girl... "

She opened her eyes, blinking heavily a few times before she turned her head and looked at him. 

Her eyes slowly moved over him, like she was memorizing every detail, and a desperate whimper escaped from her throat.

She started to reach for him, then hastily retreated, fisting her hands up under her chin, as tears filled her wide eyes.

"No, Jem... Hey... It's okay... " He gently took her hands, and rubbed his thumbs along the edge of her palms, to get her to relax her grip, then pulled them up to his face, where he kissed one hand and pressed the other to his cheek.

Her pupils dilated, until a thin, amber ring was the only color that remained around the shining blackness, and her lips parted on shaky breaths.

She experimentally flexed her fingers against his jaw, then shifted her palm away from his mouth to trace the pad of her thumb across his bottom lip.

After a few breaths, she shot forward and wrapped her arms around him, knocking him backwards a little bit as she scrambled into his lap. 

She relaxed her hold after a few seconds, rubbing her hands over him, searching his face, and whispered urgently, "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

He smiled, leaning into her hand, holding it along his jaw for a moment.

"No... No, I'm okay... " then he added a little throatily, "I missed you."

She leaned into his neck, and wrapped her arms around him again, a small whine escaping her throat, as a few tears escaped her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

He wrapped his arms around her as well, holding her against him, and murmured comforting words to her, his breaths dusting along her ear.

She sat back, and wiped her cheek with the palm of her hand. Then, she rubbed her fingertips over his eyelids, along his brow ridge, across his cheek bones, and under his chin.

"You were gone so long... I missed you so much... " She kept running her hands over him, his chest and shoulders and face and neck and ears.

"I know... I couldn't get home... I'm so sorry... " He rubbed his hands along her back under the cardigan and tee, touching her bare skin.

"No... hey, don't... don't apologize... " She cupped his face in her palms, and pressed her lips to his for a few seconds, "It's okay... We're okay... I'm just... I'm so happy you're back."

He tucked his face into her neck and breathed her in, pressing few kisses to the soft skin there, "Me, too... "

He pressed a few more unhurried kisses there, before he pressed a couple more open-mouthed kisses there as well.

She hummed her approval, and guided his mouth to hers to press a few slow, lazy kisses to his lips, "I love you."

"You, too, Jem... You're everything."

She rested her forehead against his, then kissed him again and again, softly and leisurely, and each time their mouths came together, their lips lingered a little bit longer than the time before that, until they tilted their heads and opened their mouths. 

Their tongues finally collided, gently sliding along one another, and an appreciative sigh escaped his throat, as she shivered and moaned into his mouth, at the intimate sensation, so long overdue.

She slowly shifted off of his lap without breaking contact, then curled her fingers into the front of his tee, gently tugging at it, encouraging him to follow her away from the edge and into the center of the bed, where they ended up, on their knees, leaning into one another, both breathless and desperate and a little lost in one another.

She pulled at the hem of his tee shirt, lifting it off over his head, and tossing it to the floor. Then, he helped her shrug out of his cardigan, as his lips cascaded over her throat, stretching his arm past her slightly, to toss it to the floor, as well.

She ran her fingers across his back, as he nipped and licked at her neck and behind her ear. 

She smoothly rubbed her palms up and down his sides, trailing them up and over his shoulders and down his arms, before lightly sliding the pads of her fingers over his chest and abdomen, bringing them to rest at the tie on his scrub pants, as she leaned into him, biting at his shoulder gently.

Before she could work the knot there, he pulled her tee up and off, tossing it to the floor, then slowly raked his eyes over her body.

He held her steady between his hands, as he dropped back to sit on his feet, then he leaned forward to press kisses to the tattoo along her ribs. 

She rotated her torso to give him easier access, her body shuddering from the sensations he created using only his lips, tongue, and teeth on her skin.

He trailed kisses along her ribs and licked the underside of her breast, before he continued up to its peak, running his tongue and lips over her, then pulling her nipple into his mouth, and gently sucking, flicking the tip of his tongue back and forth over her hypersensitive nerve endings, making her nipple harden into a tight bud.

She arched toward him and moaned low in her throat, biting her lip for a moment, "Mmm, you can stop doing that never... "

He smiled against her skin, then continued, bringing his left hand up to pluck at her other nipple concurrently. Her breath stuttered in her chest, and she emitted what started as a chuckle, but evolved into a bit of a mewl, as her hands moved to hold onto the back of his head.

She pulled him up for a kiss, and he ran his fingertips over the crested peaks, mumbling cockily against her lips, "Are you sure you like that?"

She kissed him again, punishingly long and deep and hard, trembling as he continued his finger tip assault.

She trailed kisses over his jaw and neck, biting him on the clavicle, then soothing the sensation with the tip of her tongue, before she licked across his nipple, and ran her hand over the front of his thin pants, tracing over the obvious hardness there.

When he groaned and leaned into her, she teased him back.

"You seem completely unaffected," she taunted, and he growled and bit her neck before pushing her down and rolling her to her back.

Her arms lazily circled his shoulders, and she smiled up at him.

He leaned down and kissed her quickly on the lips, "God, I missed you."

She lifted her shoulders off the bed to pull him into a tight hug, her arms sliding up around his neck, and his gliding around her back and shoulder. 

They stayed like that for several seconds, then she sighed and relaxed her grip slightly to run her fingers through his hair. 

When he lifted his head to look at her, she smiled up at him.

Then she nudged his shoulder, and whispered impishly, "Can we take your pants off, before Coulson sends you away again?"

He chuckled, then kissed her and nuzzled her throat, "He says we don't have to report until Tuesday."

She reached for tie on his pants, and stage whispered, "Even so, I don't think we should chance it."

He laughed and rolled his hips away from her, stalling, and feathered soft kisses over the blue birds on her chest, before lifting his head to look at her, intently.

"Fitz, what?"

He leaned in and kissed her, before asking, "Is it going to be uncomfortable for you?"

She ran her fingers through his hair, "I have used... umm... assistive devices, so... I don' t think it will hurt."

He tilted his head and mildly questioned, "Assistive devices?"

She bit her lip and shrugged, smiling a little, "Battery-powered..."

He groaned, dropping his forehead to her sternum, before lifting his eyes to meet her gaze again.

"Well that is something to imagine," he growled against her mouth, then lightly bit her bottom lip, before kissing her breathless, dipping his tongue deeply into her mouth.

When they parted, her eyes opened, but remained focused wholly on his mouth, and she touched the pad of her thumb to his bottom lip, uttering hoarsely, "You can watch."

After a few seconds, she raised her eyes to his, her pupils blown wide revealing undisguised desire, and his breath hitched in his chest, before a low gutteral sound escaped from his throat.

He nuzzled her, his breath whispering across her ear, "I love you."

"Mmm, you better... " She turned, so her mouth collided with his, and she sucked on his bottom lip.

He groaned, and retreated a little bit, pulling his bottom lip adorably between his teeth, then he waited.

"Mmm... Something else?" She stretched alongside him, and ran her fingers through his hair.

His hand slid along her flat belly, and his fingertips rubbed along the edge of her lace panties, "Birth control."

She lazily smiled, "IUD."

He gave a slightly puzzled look, lines furrowing between his brows, "Why do you have an IUD?"

She smiled even wider at his obvious distress, "Because, I assumed that when you got back, I would need it."

"Oh," he breathed, ducking his head sheepishly, then asked sweetly, "So we're good?"

She looked at her hand rubbing circles on his shoulder, and hesitantly probed, "Unless you were with someone else... "

He cradled her face in his palm, "Definitely not."

She smiled, relieved, "Then, we're good."

"It won't hurt you, and birth control is taken care of?" he summarized as a query.

"Yep."

He rolled over on her, suddenly, grabbing her hands and pinning them on either side of her head, and she laughed, and smiled wide, surprised and a little breathless.

When he lowered his mouth to hers, the contact was much gentler than she expected, considering the lust that flamed behind his eyes, and it was deliciously satisfying the way his soft lips and slick tongue worked together against and inside her mouth. She sighed and tugged one of her hands free, to place it along the back of his neck and pulled him into an even deeper kiss, intimately sliding her tongue against his, exploring and tasting.

He rocked against her, and they both moaned at the contact, her hands moving to dig into his lower back, encouraging him to continue moving, setting a slow, easy rhythm, and he pressed his mouth to her neck, trailing wet, warm kisses to the soft area behind her ear, nipping his teeth along her skin, and scraping her with the scruff at his jaw, as his softly calloused palms slid over the smooth skin of her torso.

She shivered and arched herself into his touch, whimpering when he finally, cupped his hands under her bottom, and tilted her pelvis perfectly to maximize the pressure and slide of their bodies against one another, her body clenching as the sensations ratcheted her higher, pushing her closer to the edge of control.

She wrapped her legs tight around his waist, locking him against her, and he looked up at her puzzled.

She looked at him for a moment, before she pulled his face to hers, kissing and licking and sucking his swollen mouth.

When she released him, she bit her lip, "I need you."

He just nodded, eyes blazing, pupils blown wide.

She unhooked her feet at his waist, and she reached between them, to loosen the knot, then pushed his pants down over his hips. He rolled aside and took over, shucking them off and tossing them to the floor.

She lifted her hips from the bed, and removed her own lace panties in one fluid motion, and tossed them away, before returning her shoulders to the mattress.

He took her chin in his hands, and rubbed his thumb over her lips, before kissing her very tenderly on the mouth, and she hummed against his mouth, rolling onto her side in an effort to get closer to him.

She reached between them and took him in her hand, rubbing her fingers over him, gripping her palm around him, moving his soft skin over the hardness beneath.

He moved against her hand, sighing and whispering her name, before gently rolling her under him, and settling himself between her thighs.

He reached between them, but barely made contact with her dripping wet center, before her breathing stuttered, and she brushed his fingers away, whispering, "If you touch me, this will be over before it starts."

He groaned against her lips, then concentrated on trailing his mouth along her neck, licking and sucking, and she reached between them to position him, aligning them, before placing her hands on his hips, curling her fingers to get his attention, and whispering, "Okay."

He looked into her eyes, so full of open adoration, that her breathing faltered for a moment, then he pressed slowly forward. 

She gasped at the intimate sensation, and he stopped moving, searching her face, but she pulled at his hips, and whispered for him not to stop, tilting her hips up into his, and he carefully and slowly complied.

When he was deeply seated, she flexed her Kegel muscles, experimentally, and he sputtered.

She smiled up at him reassuringly, "It's okay. You can move."

Still watching her face for distress, he withdrew a bit and pressed forward again, and she moved her hands to cradle his face, taking in his worried expression, "I am definitely okay."

He moved again, and she met him half way, her breath hitching at the intimate contact and over-full feeling, when their bodies came together completely, and he moaned, before taking her mouth.

She reached her arms under his and curled them over his scapula, so her hands gripped at his shoulders, while they searched for, and quickly found, their rhythm.

Her body clenched and and quivered and her muscles pulled tight as they rocked against one another, and she whimpered and mewled into his neck as the sensations overtook her body.

She could feel his warm breath on her neck, and hear him sighing next to her ear, as each thrust pushed her closer to the edge, and she shook, and whispered his name over and over, pulling her knees higher, bracketing his torso.

"Fuck, Jemma," hissed out, low and gravelly, against her throat, and her body stuttered, signaling the beginning of the end.

"Please don't stop," she begged, then, "Oh my God, Leo... harder," as her body spiraled into orgasm.

Her body quivered and pulsated with pleasure, and her muscles clenched around him, rhythmically tightening and releasing, as a litany of sexy, heavily accented expletives rushed out of his mouth below her ear.

She hoarsely yelled his name into his neck, as his breaths shortened and faltered, as she felt him tense with his own release, stretching out the waves still crashing within her, as they rode it out.

They remained locked together, slick with sweat, their chests heaving, as they worked to draw enough oxygen. 

She pressed clumsy kisses to his neck, and he feathered kisses into her hair, until conscious thought no longer eluded them.

She opened her mouth to tell him she loved him, but those weren't the words that tumbled out.

"Oh my God... That was fucking amazing."

He laughed against her ear, still breathing hard, "Really fucking amazing."

She smiled and ran her fingers across his chin, "That was perfect."

"You're perfect." He squeezed her tight, pressing kisses to her neck, then he withdrew, and shifted his weight off of her, staying pressed close against her side. 

She shifted to lean down and grab the quilt from where it was folded over the foot board, and pulled it over them, before she tucked herself in against his chest, listening to his beating heart.

"Jem..." He rubbed his hand up an down her bare back.

"Hmmm... " She absently trailed her fingers along his sternum.

"I can't live without you," he said thickly.

"I know," she mumbled.

"Seriously, Jem," he uttered low, and resolutely, "I can't."

"No, I know," she replied seriously, "We're a naturally occurring duality." 

He kissed the top of her head, and sighed, "That's exactly how I feel."

"Neither of us exists without the other."

"Truly, I'm not me without you. I'm fragmented alone."

"We're fractional parts of a single entity," she admitted easily, "We're only us, together."

He pulled her tighter over his chest, and she snuggled under his chin, draping her arm across his middle, and slipping her leg over his, and they dozed off wrapped up in one another.


	16. Chapter 16

"Amazing... A subterranean HYDRA hive... Horrible, but still amazing. Perfect for isolation and self-containment."

"I'm just glad it's over," he whispered, as he peppered kisses along her shoulder, and she shivered.

"You made that happen," she looked over her shoulder at him, but he twirled his finger indicating that she should return to laying flat on her belly with her arms folded under her chin.

"You did," she pouted.

He chuckled at her childishness, then leaned down to brush kisses over the stars on her back, circling back around to nibble the skin over the butterflies, as she giggled her contentment.

He placed open-mouthed kisses along her ribs and spine, then he ran his warm palms down her back, his thumbs over lapping in the center with his fingers spread out along her sides, and she felt like his hands were everywhere at once, his slight callouses creating pleasant friction across her skin. She hummed and stretched.

He massaged her bum, and traced his finger tips up her sides, skating them over the outer curve of each of her breasts, and she started to turn again.

He pressed his hand lightly to her shoulder and growled, "Lay down, Jemma."

"But-"

"Trust me, Jem."

She grumbled, and he laughed against her shoulder.

He continued his gentle assault, until she felt light-headed and tingly and frustrated.

He straddled the back of her thighs, and leaned over her, kissing the back of her neck, and nipping at her shoulders, until Jemma was practically grinding her hips into the mattress.

He sat back on her thighs, and with his thumbs, he rubbed small circles into the smooth, sensitive skin of her inner thighs, as his warm palms curled around their backs, and she squirmed and wiggled willing him to touch higher.

"Jemma, patience."

"Fitz, you need to touch me... now."

He smiled at her demanding tone and reached between her thighs, rubbing softly at her center, and she hummed, and mumbled appreciation. 

His touch was gentle and slow, and he kneaded her hip with his other hand, as he rubbed against her core, dipping his his head to lick across her back, before sinking his finger into her wet warmth.

She mewled and shifted forward on her pelvis, so her bum lifted up in the air, giving him easier access for his assault, and she released a low moan from her throat, when he added another finger, rubbing and touching along her sensitive nerve bundles.

When he removed his fingers, she whimpered, and when she would've tried to turn again, he pressed his hand softly down on her shoulder, kneading it in his fingers.

He slid forward slightly, still straddling Jemma's thighs, and pressed himself between her thighs, rubbing his already hard cock against her, leaning over her, releasing hot breaths across her shoulder.

"Leo, please," she bit her lip.

"Please, what?"

"Touch me," she rolled back against him.

"I am."

"Touch me... inside."

He growled in his throat, then rocked forward, slowly sliding into her, pressing her to the mattress with his hips, and she released a guttural sigh.

He leaned over her and tangled the fingers of their right hands together in front of them on the mattress.

Then, he trailed his other hand to her hip wrapping it there to steady her as he withdrew and moved forward again, and she cursed.

He chuckled against the back of her ear, then locked his mouth at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, sucking at the soft area between her sternocleidomastoid and trapezius muscles, and she felt liquid warmth pool low in her belly. 

She hummed and relaxed her shoulders, moving her neck to give him more room to bite and lick and suck.

She was surrounded by him, his warmth. His chest and belly ghosted across her back, as his pelvis rocked against her bottom, and his thighs rubbed along hers. His mouth was open on her neck, and his breaths dusted her throat, as he slid into her rhythmically, repeatedly.

She reached up with her free hand to clutch the back of his head, moaning with each thrust forward.

Her body rippled and tensed with the building sensation.

He released his hold on her hip, and slid his hand between her pelvis and the mattress, cupping it over her pubic bone, so every forward movement nudged her clit across his finger tips.

"Ahhh.... We seriously... Mmmm... need to ta-alk.. "

He slowed his movements.

"No, no, no... Don't stop... Mmm."

He sounded worried, "Okay?"

"Mm... ye-eah."

"Jem?"

"God... after... Please don't stop..."

He moaned into her neck, and intensified his movements.

She trembled under him, as her body clenched, and each time he moved, the sensation pushed her closer to the edge.

He slipped his left leg in between hers, his knee finding the hollow behind hers. Then, he smoothly shifted their weight to the right, sliding her left leg out wide, bent at the knee, with his knee remaining behind hers to maintain her hip's flexed position.

"Fucking hell," she ground out on a whisper, clutching her fingers tighter with his, and reaching across herself to grasp the wrist of his supporting arm with her free hand as well.

She dropped her forehead onto her forearm and closed her eyes, her ragged breaths muffled by the mattress beneath her.

He whispered against the back of her neck how good it felt to be inside her, and she released a small, high pitched whimper, as her body fluttered in response.

When she reached down to grip the back of his thigh behind hers, he ground out, "C'mon, Jemma," and latched onto her shoulder, biting and sucking.

Her breaths hitched, as her body started to tremble, and he moved faster and harder.

She breathed a lusty moan into her elbow, as her body shook and clenched around him.

"I love you... Jem... Only you... Forever," he whispered raggedly into her neck, following her over the edge with his own release.

______

 

She laughed incredulously, lathering up his hair, "Geometry?" 

"And schematics. I'm good with diagrams." he shrugged, watching the way the water trailed over her breasts and down her body, before falling to the bathtub floor.

"Geometry and diagrams," she parroted, pushing him under the water to rinse.

He nodded his head and blushed, shrugging again.

"Right," she smiled, watching the water run over him, rinsing away the suds, leaving clean pink skin and soft curls.

"I did research. I just wanted to get it right," he cupped her breasts, his hands gliding expertly over her skin.

"Well you're definitely getting it right," she laughed again, "It's a little unnerving, though, like you have an operator's manual for me, and I'm just winging it, going with what feels good."

"Well, you winging it is fucking amazing," he whispered, pulling her in for a wet kiss under the spray, "and I find your moves... very impressive." 

She pulled him out of the spray, and ran her fingers through his hair, pulling his face down to hers, before wrapping her arms around his shoulders, and pressing her body against his.

"Mmm, we need to get dressed," she reminded him, when they broke apart minutes later.

"I don't want to," he slid his hands down her back, cupping her bum, and lowered his forehead to her shoulder.

"I don't either, but we need to eat, or we'll pass out before Tuesday," she joked.

"I just want to stay locked away with you until then, even though I know it's selfish."

"Then, I'm selfish, too... but I'm hungry... for food."

He chuckled, because she felt the need to clarify, "One hour. Then back here."

She nodded, "One hour."

Then she added, "With enough snacks and water that we won't need to leave again, until at least Sunday."

He laughed, but he looked dead serious when he nodded in agreement.


	17. Chapter 17

He leaned back against the door, and shut his eyes for a moment, pausing to engage the lock, "That was possibly the longest hour of my entire life."

She smiled sympathetically from across the room, as she finished setting down the items she held in her arms, things that would allow them to remain locked away with one another for a few more days, before sharing anymore of their precious time.

He sighed, "I missed everyone. I did... I mean, I do... But, I just want to be with you, right now... I just-I need to be alone with you."

"Me, too," she said with an understanding smile, walking across the room, just to be closer to him, to touch him, to feel his skin against hers.

He scooted the cooler that he'd dropped to the floor up against the wall with his foot, and smiled, relaxing slightly, when she laced her fingers between his, and squeezed them lightly, reassuringly.

He turned her, so her back was pressed flat against the door, and brought her hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles, before he leaned in to kiss her mouth, and the world fell away.

She smiled against his lips, then tilted her head, opening her mouth almost immediately, to slide her tongue against his, releasing his hand to cradle his face between her palms and pull him even closer to her, willing him to press his body more firmly against hers.

Then, she tugged his shirt from the waistband of his jeans, unbuttoning it, and hurriedly pushing it from his shoulders, before she reached for the buckle of his belt.

He paused, bringing his forehead to rest against hers, for a moment, then he skated his hands warmly over her body, rubbing his fingers lovingly over her curves, before he curled them into the skirt of her skater dress and started rucking it up higher on her legs, his callous-roughened palms rubbing enticingly over the soft skin of her outer thighs. 

She tangled her fingers at the back of his neck, and pulled him into another kiss, moaning when he palmed her satin covered bottom, and pulled her against him, already hard and ready, and when their kisses became more urgent and frenzied, she kicked off her flats, and nudged him backwards, toward the bed, with a small growl.

As they neared the edge of the bed, she returned to unbuckling his belt, then unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, pushing them down over the curve of his bum, leaving them pooled around his thighs, to slide her own panties off, from under her dress.

Then, she flattened her palms against his chest and broke away from their kiss, shoving him lightly, so he fell onto his back, with her immediately climbing on top of him, as he watched her from passion-darkened eyes, her knees coming to rest on either side of his slim torso.

She lowered her face to his, tasting his mouth with her tongue, and sighing breathily, as he rubbed his hands over her thighs, and groaned appreciatively against her lips.

He plunged his tongue deeply into her mouth, when she finally took him in her hand, her fingers gripping the velvety soft skin stretched over the hard length of him, rubbing and sliding, up and down.

She melted into his kiss, and sighed against his lips, her body pulling tight with anticipation, heat pooling white-hot low in her belly.

She needed his touch, craved it, and before he could even pull her dress from her body, she lowered herself onto him, taking him deeply inside of her with a satisfied moan.

"Fuck," he hoarsely whispered against her mouth, when he hilted within her, her body fluttering around him, in an attempt to adjust and accommodate to his size.

Then she rolled her hips into his, and started to rock and slide against him, finding the perfect push and pull to make her body sizzle with excitement.

She felt the lick of flames at her center, and although they'd only just begun, the blaze within her was already too far out of control to slow herself, and her body exploded with orgasm almost immediately, burying her face against his neck, moaning his name and roughly riding him, through the heat of the inferno blazing within her, her body contracting and clenching down around his cock, as he dug his fingertips into her thighs, her channel tightening around him, gripping him, rhythmically pulsing slick with her pleasure.

She trembled against him, aftershocks shaking her sweaty body, as her breaths whispered warmly and softly against his throat.

"Jemma?" he whispered hoarsely.

She lifted her head, and he cradled her face between his palms, looking deeply into her eyes, "That was... You are-"

"I love you," she whispered, as if that explained everything, and he pulled her face to his, kissing her deeply, reverently and slowly.

Her center continued to throb through the ebb of her orgasm, and she flexed her pelvic floor muscles around him, her body rippling against his.

She sat upright, inhaling sharply at the deep aching sensation of him still hard within her, then she pulled her dress off over her head and tossed it onto the floor, followed by her bra, leaving her completely exposed, naked and flushed and amazing, her skin pink and lightly covered in sweat, from her earlier efforts.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, looking up at her.

She rolled off of him, separating their bodies, and hoarsely whispered, "Take off your pants," sinking her straight white teeth into her full lower lip, and looking up at him through lowered lashes.

When he finished disrobing, he settled himself between her thighs, and she looked up at him with undisguised need, and when he pushed inside of her, she cried out against his throat, and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, their pace fast and hard right from the beginning, both wanting the other too bad to worry about niceties. 

She spread her knees wide, and pushed off of the back of his thighs, where her feet had come to rest, when she wrapped her legs around him, and she met every bruising thrust of his with an equally forceful one of her own, lifting her body up to his, the sound of their coupling, loud in the otherwise silence of their room.

She moaned his name over and over, but as her passion flared even hotter, and her control fled, her moans deteriorated into nonsensical keens, her hands pulling at his lower back, her nails digging into his skin.

Her voice broke, when her body shattered apart, clenching around him, pulsing and thrumming, as he continued to thrust deeply within her.

Each hard stroke was ecstasy, him rubbing against neurons already set aflame with passion, her body on fire, burning, needing.

Then, he gasped, and she felt him harden even more with the force of his release. She felt a delicious, almost achingly painful twinge, as he came, fully hilted within her, and she breathily whimpered, pressing her body even further into the sensation, until they were locked together as tight as possible, both shaking and trembling and struggling to breathe.

"I love you," she mumbled into his neck, just below his ear, her body still quivering against his, "more than anything." 

He lifted his head and looked at her, "I love you."

Then, he continued, his voice hoarse, and his words sincere, "I've never wanted anything as much as I want to be with you."


	18. Chapter 18

She slipped away to take a bath while he was still napping, sighing happily as she lowered herself into the luxuriously hot water.

She tipped her head back, resting her neck on the edge of the tub, and she let her muscles relax, just enjoying the surrounding warmth, her eyes dropping closed as she sunk even deeper into the steaming liquid enveloping her body.

After spending a significant amount of time relaxing and dozing, she lazily pulled the plug by looping the stopper's chain with her toes and gently tugging upward with her foot.

"Hey," she heard him whisper from the doorway.

She opened her eyes and smiled, whispering back, "Hey... You were sleeping... "

He came forward, ruffled and dressed only in his boxer briefs, leaning over the tub to press his mouth to hers, one hand supporting his weight at the tub's edge, but other dipping into the water to cup her breast.

"I'm not sleeping now," he whispered against her lips.

She raised both hands to palm the back of his head and pull him into a passionate kiss, all tastes and nibbles.

"Good, because I just finished my bath," she mumbled against his mouth, as she released him, indicating the lowering water level.

He reached for a towel, as she stood, but instead of handing it over, he helped her step out of the tub, and slowly, gently, and methodically dried her body from head to toe, gently rubbing the soft nubs of terrycloth over her warm, wet skin.

She pressed herself against him, and kissed him, moaning breathily at all the sensations he created using just his lips and tongue and teeth, as he guided her back into their bedroom and towards the bed.

"I love your mouth," she whispered, when he dipped his head to lick a searing path from her neck to her shoulder.

He raised his eyes to hers, dark and lusty, before replying softly, "And my mouth loves you."

She climbed into bed, waiting for him to slide in beside her, before she reclined into the pillows.

"I missed you," she whispered, admitting that even the shortest amount of time spent separated from him was unwelcome.

"Then you should've woken me. I'd have helped you with your bath," he said quirking his lips.

She smiled releasing an airy laugh, "Next time."

"Promise?"

"I promise," she mumbled, turning to nuzzle her face against his throat, before she pressed her lips to his skin, tasting the salty essence of him on her tongue.

He shifted so he was straddling her hips, sitting on her thighs, then he leaned forward and took her face between his hands, pressing his mouth to hers.

She sighed happily into the kiss, and he groaned in response, breaking away to lick his way down the column of her throat, before sliding his palms over the smooth plains of her body.

He lightly nibbled and pecked and sucked at her breasts and torso, barely leaving one square inch untouched, unloved, then he slid even lower, and kissed the soft, creamy surface of her thighs, lightly running his fingertips over her pale, baby smooth skin.

She had her fingers woven through his hair, and she was so lost in his touch that she didn't notice him repositioning her limbs, only feeling the way he was kissing her and rubbing her, and all of the sensations he was creating by touching her. She trusted him, and loved him, and felt virtually surrounded by him, thoroughly enveloped by everything that was him, and his love for her.

She lazily stretched and shifted her body towards his hands and mouth, idly enjoying how he felt against her skin and the buzz he created within her by merely touching her, when unexpectedly, he licked his tongue across her core.

A strangled moan escaped from her throat, even as her hips rolled into his touch.

He lifted his head questioningly, but before he could inquire further, she whispered, "Please, don't stop."

He lowered his mouth to her again, and her thighs started to quiver, as she wantonly pulled him closer to her, gasping when he started flicking short licks over her center.

She rocked her hips gently in time with his mouth, until her body unraveled, and from one moment to the next she was pulling him closer, wanting, even begging for more, then pushing him away, her body completely overwhelmed, quaking, shaking and shivering, trembling under his attentions.

He wiped his mouth on the back of his forearm, and slowly slid up her body, coming to rest between her thighs, with one hand spread over her sternum, right above her rapidly beating heart. 

He laid his chin on the back of that hand, and lazily ran his finger tips over her jaw with the other, looking up at her face, his love blatantly displayed, unashamedly shining from the cerulean depths of his eyes, and she lovingly rubbed her fingers through his hair, smiling down at him, the sparkle in her eyes promising him forever.

"Marry me," he whispered.

She pulled him up to align their faces, kissing him deeply, tasting herself on his tongue, before she broke away suddenly, with a husky laugh escaping her mouth.

He smiled down at her, "What?"

She brushed her fingertips over his face, "Daisy's going to ask how you proposed."

He barked out a short laugh, burying his face against her throat for a moment, and when he looked at her again, he was having difficulty withholding his smile.

She pressed a quick kiss to his lips, "I expect you to tell her the truth."

He nuzzled her nose with his, "Do you now?"

She nodded, her forehead resting against his, and she whispered hoarsely, already getting side-tracked by the way his body pressed so intimately against hers, "Mmm, I do."

Then, she kissed him again, moaning into his mouth, as she slid her palms over the muscles of his back, and pushing his boxers down over his bum, relaxing her grip enough that he could wiggle them off of his legs and kick them to the floor.

She curled her fingers over his hips, and pulled him to her, sighing when he pushed into her, reveling in the feel of him, knowing that she would never not want him.

They moved against one another, with aching slowness, savoring each touch, every kiss, the overwhelmingly amazing push and pull of their bodies, the comfortable perfection of their oneness.

"I love you," she sighed against his neck, pulling him into her harder, her hands pressing into his lower back, "God, Leo... There."

He held her close, silently answering her command, groaning when her body clenched around his, as her orgasm washed over her and she clung to him like she'd never let him go.

As her orgasm ebbed, she snugged her knees up higher alongside his torso, re-positioning herself to take him in even deeper, listening to every sound he made, feeling every micro-movement they made together, loving every moment they shared with one another. 

She held him closer, cradling him to her, his face coming to rest against her throat.

"I love you," she whispered against his ear, "the way you touch me... how you feel inside me."

She felt his body stutter a bit, as he moved, heard his breaths falter at her admissions, and she tightened her pelvic floor muscles as she tilted her pelvis, rhythmically rolling her body up against his.

"God, you... You are amazing... Never stop touching me," she continued, clutching at his back, urging him to move faster, to thrust even harder.

He moaned against her neck, when his body surrendered in necessary release, and she cradled him against her, wrapping her legs around him, pressing kisses across his temple, and catching his mouth with hers, when he eventually lifted his head.

"I'm never letting you go," he whispered below her ear, running his fingertips over her skin, loathe to withdraw from her.

She closed her eyes and smiled, "The answer to all of my prayers."


End file.
